Dark Lady
by Ms-Figg
Summary: Dark!Hermione kills Voldemort and takes over his throne. She is quite kind to Severus. And rather attentive to Draco too. But what are her true motives? Will she become the next despot? Severus Snape has to continue his role of spy to find out. NC-17
1. Hermione

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.

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The Dark Lady (A One Shot Exploration)

Surrounded by stunned Death Eaters, Hermione Granger walked up to the broken body of Lord Voldemort, bent over and ripped his left sleeve, exposing his dark mark, which was larger and more detailed than those of his followers. She placed the tip of her wand against it and said a long and detailed invocation.

The dead wizard's body began to shudder and shake, and the sound of thunder and wind filled the throne room as his Dark Mark began to glow. All around Hermione Death Eaters screamed, grasping at their arms as the transfer took place. Hermione gritted her teeth against a pain that would have made the strongest wizard scream for his life. But she was used to great pain. It was part of the process that brought her to this point.

Finally the wind and thunder died out, and the Death Eaters stood about gasping, pulling up their sleeves and looking at their marks. The color had changed from black to white. Hermione spun toward the group and yanked up the sleeve of her black and red robes showing them the mark that now rested on her arm. There was a reddish cast to her amber eyes as she addressed them. She slipped her wand into her pocket.

"Voldemort is no more. I am your Dark Lady as of now. If any would challenge me for the throne, let them come forward now!" she said.

There was murmuring as the Death Eaters looked at the petite witch. Yes, she had killed Voldemort but that could have been a fluke.

Severus Snape eyed Hermione Granger. She had been missing for the past five years…ever since Harry Potter was ambushed and killed by a group of Death Eater along with Ronald Weasley as the two Aurors left a Quidditch match.

Obviously, the witch had been quite busy.

The crowd was disturbed as several Death Eaters walked forward in response to the witch's challenge. They pushed their way out of the crowd, eleven in all…seven men and four women. They stood with their wands by their sides.

Hermione's face contorted.

"I take it you don't believe I am powerful enough to rule you," she said evenly.

Lucius Malfoy watched with interest as the tiny witch faced off with the would-be challengers.

"I guess I will have to show you I am powerful enough. Goodbye, traitors!" the witch shrieked, throwing both palms forward, a searing mass of fire exploding from them and surrounding the Death Eaters, who screamed horribly before turning to ash. Hermione then carelessly flicked her hand at the remains which disappeared. She looked at the rest of the Death Eaters, her eyes narrowed.

"I'll fry every fucking one of you if you do not kneel and swear fealty to me right now," Hermione said, "The whole lot of you!"

Quickly every Death Eater knelt and swore their allegiance. The marks on their arms heated up painfully as they were bound to their new Dark Lady.

Peter Pettigrew emerged from the crowd, his eyes focused on the floor. Hermione looked at him, then turned, stepped over Voldemort's body and mounted the stairs leading to the throne made of human bones. She sat down.

"You want something Peter?" the witch asked him, her reddish eyes resting on the rotund wizard.

Nervously the wizard looked up at her.

"My Lady, I served the Dark Lord loyally for years until his…sudden demise. I would offer you my services as well," the ratty little wizard said.

Hermione looked at him coldly.

"What makes you think I'd want you near me? You're disgusting. Not to mention you set up Sirius Black to take the fall for your betrayal and hid with the Weasleys for years. Voldemort might have wanted you for a toady, but I certainly don't," the witch said. She flicked a finger at Peter Pettigrew.

Suddenly the wizard fell, gagged and completely bound by chains. His eyes rolled wildly.

"The only thing you'll be serving, Peter, is life in Azkaban for your crimes," she said.

The Death Eaters all looked at each other.

Hermione looked at all of them.

"Now, no more of this 'Purebloods are better' shit. That's over with. Everyone in the wizarding world will be judged by their character and not their inbred lineages," Hermione said. "I have a different plan for you lot. One of reparation."

The Death Eaters began to mutter. Hermione eyed them then pointed a finger at a tall wizard to her left.

"Crucio!" she cried.

The man fell to the floor screaming and shuddering as the dread pain hit him. Hermione calmly held the curse on him for a full minute before she let him go. He lay there, trembling, smelling of shit.

Hermione arched both eyebrows and made a show of listening carefully. There wasn't a single sound.

"Much better," she said. "Now, where is Severus Snape?"

Severus shouldered his way through the crowd and bowed to Hermione, his eyes on the floor.

"I am here, my Lady," he said.

"You don't have to keep your eyes on the floor in my presence, Professor," the witch said, the reddish tint in her eyes dulling. "Your service to the Dark Lord is over, and you are not required to participate in the Reparation. You have done enough for the wizarding world with no reward. I only wish I could take back the pain you've suffered for all these years."

"Thank you, my Lady," the wizard said in his silky voice, his dark eyes washing over her.

Hermione studied the pale wizard. He hadn't changed in five years except that his hair was longer. He still had the same dark eyes, hawkish nose, aristocratic brows and cruel, but sensuous mouth.

"I would like to speak to you later, Professor," the witch said. "You may return to the ranks."

"As you wish, my Lady," Severus said, bowing again and walking back into the crowd, wondering what the witch wanted with him. He'd find out soon enough.

Hermione looked at the group.

"Where is Draco Malfoy?" she said, frowning, the reddish tint returning in her eyes.

Again there was motion in the crowd. Draco appeared, also shouldering his way through his comrades. The wizard was tall, well-built and handsome, his whitish-blonde hair shoulder length, his face angular and strong. Draco's gray eyes held some reservation however as he bowed to Hermione, but didn't say anything.

"So Draco, I bet you never saw this coming," Hermione said to the wizard.

"No, my Lady," he said, his gray eyes focused on the floor.

"You treated me like shit for years," the witch said.

Draco felt a coldness in his belly. Shit, the witch wanted revenge now. The wizard braced himself to be crucio'd. But nothing happened. Hermione simply stared at him for a while.

Then she said, "I have an opening for a personal servant. You will fill Peter's place. Your first duty is to dispose of…this."

She pointed her toe at Voldemort's body.

"Your second will be to kill Nagini. I don't want her slithering about," the witch said.

Draco stood there. Him, a servant for a mudblood? How humiliating.

Hermione noticed his stiffness.

"Well, if you don't want to be my servant…there is always torture and death," she said, scowling at him.

"I will serve you…my Lady," the wizard said between clenched teeth.

Hermione's eyes washed over him. Draco was quite a handsome little piece. Maybe she'd make him serve as an occasional consort as well. He'd better be able to get it up for her. After five years of celibacy, the witch was raring for a go, though she wasn't sure what would happen to her partner if she lost control. Well, it would have to be trial and error. Maybe Draco or whoever she chose to pleasure her would survive. She had plenty of wizards to pick from as the Dark Lady.

Five years ago, Hermione would never have thought about doing such a thing and risking another human being's life so coldly. But the witch had changed. Developing her powers had been a very painful process, and she paid quite a price to do so. Half of her soul. As a result, her "humanity" quotient was currently quite low.

But her former Master would approve of her success in replacing the Dark Lord and at least she wouldn't have to go to Hell like most damned individuals. Halved souls eventually rejuvenated. It had been a shrewd bargain she made, one that gave her Master an element of Good, something he could have never acquired on his own. At world's end, he wouldn't be destroyed as his brethren. He would be able to dwell in the outskirts of Heaven.

Hermione looked at Draco.

"Then start serving," she said, arching an eyebrow at Voldemort's corpse.

Draco bowed, walked up to the base of the throne and grasped Voldemort's body by one arm and dragged him back toward the Death Eaters, who parted and let him pass, a streak of black blood left behind.

Hermione looked at the silent Death Eaters, and suddenly, she wanted them gone.

"Just get out! I will summon you later when I have your duties scheduled," the witch said.

"Scheduled?" a few of the Death Eaters mouthed silently.

Severus smirked. It seemed some things about the witch hadn't changed.

The Death Eaters continued to mill about. Hermione's eyes reddened frightfully.

"Don't you lot understand English? Now go, or someone's ass is going to get fried," the witch commanded.

The Death Eaters hastily disappeared. Now the only ones left were Severus, Peter and Draco, who was nowhere to be seen. Severus approached the throne.

"You've been busy, my Lady," he said to Hermione, who stared down at him.

"Just call me Hermione, Professor. I don't need that form of address from you," Hermione said, sounding a bit exasperated.

Severus bowed.

"As you wish, Hermione," he said. The witch liked the way her name sounded when he said it. She looked at him speculatively, the redness in her eyes once again dulling. The Professor had always appealed to her when she was a student. He was intelligent, commanding, hard and a hero. Now that she was a woman, she found he was even more appealing.

Hell, she could have more than one consort, couldn't she?

"And yes, I have been busy. Someone had to bring Voldemort down. Harry is dead, and I didn't see how anyone was going to do it. So I found a way to do it myself," the witch said.

Severus looked at her. Hermione was very powerful. Her wandless magic was phenomenal. He had never seen anyone cast the Cruciatus curse without a wand, or any Unforgivable for that matter. He wanted to ask her how she had accomplished it, but felt it would be better if he didn't. Maybe one day she would tell him herself.

The Death Eaters had all been summoned by the Dark Lord, who was about to give them the details for an attack on the Ministry, when suddenly Hermione appeared in their midst with a powerful crack of thunder. She whirled her wand around her head and none of the Death Eaters could move. They were frozen in place.

Voldemort fired a powerful spell at her, but she made a motion with her left hand, and it dissipated. Then she whirled both her arms, clapped her hands together and thrust her palms at the wizard. Voldemort's chest literally exploded and he fell down the stairs of his dais, stone dead.

Hermione then turned to the Death Eaters and released them with another wave of her hand. Then she pulled her wand and took the Dark Lord's mark.

"Professor, I would like you to take a message to the Headmaster and tell him Voldemort is dead and the Death Eaters are now bound to me. Tell him the wizarding world is safe. Also, I would like you to drop Peter off at the Ministry. Would you do that for me?" she asked the wizard.

The Potions Master noticed that the witch didn't attempt to blatantly order him about, though she could easily have done so. He wondered why that was, but again kept his peace. He saw how violent the witch could be. She had killed eleven Death Eaters without flinching. The old Hermione didn't want to even dissect a dragonfly. She wasn't the witch he knew.

"Yes, I will do it," Severus said.

"Thank you. You may go," Hermione said, waving her hand at him.

Severus looked at the small witch sitting in the throne of human bones. She would be left alone here. Suddenly Draco appeared, walking out of one of the doors. He walked up to the throne and looked at Severus before bowing to Hermione, his eyes on the floor.

"It is done. Voldemort's body is disposed of as well as Nagini," the wizard said. "Is there anything else, my Lady?"

Draco was anxious to get out of there.

Hermione looked at him consideringly.

"Yes. You will give me a tour of this stronghold. I need to familiarize myself with it," the witch said, her eyes glowing red again. "In fact, there are several things I need to familiarize myself with again."

Her fire-filled eyes raked over Draco in an unmistakable manner.

Severus' eyebrows rose. Was Hermione going to fuck Draco…her nemesis of many years? Well, considering how the wizard felt about her…that would be the ultimate humiliation for him. The Potions Master could see it. Hermione was certainly something else. The wizard walked over to Peter and grasped a length of chain.

"Until next I see you…Hermione," the wizard said to her. He bowed and disapparated.

Hermione looked at Draco.

"I think I'd like this to be a naked tour," she said, smiling as the wizard turned red as a salamander.

"Divesto."

Hermione looked at the wizard's toned body, one eyebrow arching as her eyes fell on his goods. Draco stood there, shoulders back and chest out, refusing to be embarrassed or cowed. He knew he was good-looking.

Hermione gave him a lascivious smile.

It was good to be the Queen.

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A/N: Just a one shot for now. 


	2. Snape Makes His Report

**Chapter 2 ~ Snape Makes His Report**

"Hermione Granger has returned?" Albus asked Snape incredulously as he sat in an armchair in the Headmaster's office.

Snape nodded.

"Yes, she has—and made quite the grand entrance. She's killed Voldemort," the Potions master purred. "Right in his own throne room filled with Death Eaters. She's avenged her friends and in the process brought an end to Voldemort's reign."

Albus sat behind his desk, stunned. Hermione had killed Voldemort? How? Where did she get the ability? And why wasn't she attacked by his minions?

"But Severus—Tom Riddle was a very powerful wizard! What spell did she use? How did she keep the Death Eaters at bay?"

Snape eyes glittered.

"I couldn't tell, Headmaster. Her attack was wandless and I heard no spell uttered. She simply made a whirling gesture with her arms, clapped her hands together and thrust her palms toward the Dark Lord. A fiery blast engulfed him, and rather than burn him, it appeared his heart was exploded within his chest. Then he fell to the ground, his body twisted horribly. She then transferred his mark to her own forearm, killed a few dissenters then took the throne. She had me drop Peter Pettigrew off at the Ministry to stand trial for his crimes. For all intents and purposes, Headmaster, Hermione Granger is now the Dark Lord—no – the Dark Lady of the Death Eaters. She asked me to inform you that the wizarding world is now safe."

"She's made herself their leader, Severus?" Albus asked him hollowly; unable to believe Voldemort was finally destroyed.

"Without question," Snape said, then added, "she is truly dark, Headmaster. Her eyes turn red when she is angered and power radiates off her in waves. She isn't the witch we knew before Harry Potter's death. I suspect the Dark Arts are the basis of her new abilities."

"The Dark Arts," Albus breathed, shaking his head. "That's not good, Severus. Using evil for good does not negate the evil. She could be compromised. Her soul could be even blacker than that of the despot that she killed."

Snape nodded.

"I suppose that is possible, Headmaster, although I believe she retains some of her Gryffindor qualities and personality. She did send Peter to the Ministry, and has plans to 'schedule' the Death Eaters' reparations to the wizarding world. Apparently, not even the Dark Arts can override her propensity to be—annoying."

The Headmaster didn't smile at Snape's comment. It was good that Voldemort was no more, but Hermione with such power, not coming to see him and sending an envoy in Snape disturbed him. What if she had idea of really becoming the next despot?

"Severus, I know you believe with Voldemort's death your duties as a spy should be over—however, your services are needed more than ever now. I need to know what Hermione is up to and whether or not she is another danger that has to be stopped."

Snape looked at Albus dispassionately. He had hoped it would be over, but realized that this new Hermione Granger would be a source of worry and suspicion to the Headmaster. She was even more powerful than Voldemort, and no one knew what her agenda was besides killing the wizard responsible for the death of Harry and Ron, and so many others. Had she even thought that far ahead?

Snape sighed inwardly. It was easy to see Hermione was just as jaded as Voldemort by the easy way she dispatched eleven lives and randomly Crucio'd a muttering Death Eater. She might be one to torture as well, if she felt it necessary. He was still dangling over a smoldering cauldron.

"I understand," Snape said softly.

"Good. For now, we'll keep Voldemort's death to ourselves. If it gets out, let it be from his servants. Let the entire story come from his servants," Albus said.

"Yes, sir," Snape said, rising.

Albus' blue eyes turned upward as he looked at the pale, dark wizard.

"Let us hope that Hermione's return is truly a blessing and not a greater curse," he said to the wizard somberly.

Snape didn't reply. He simply nodded and left Albus' office.

As far as he was concerned, anyone was better than Voldemort.

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"Oh, dear gods!" Draco groaned.

He was sitting on the throne of bones, naked and howling as Hermione rode him viciously, holding on to the back of the throne for leverage as she drew herself over the blonde wizard's cock insanely, her eyes flaming and pussy feeling three times hotter than normal to the wizard.

"Yesssss, Draco," Hermione hissed. "You're my bitch, aren't you? Aren't you?"

Draco couldn't do anything more than helplessly grasp her waist as Hermione poured it on. The wizard's back was bruising against the hard bones as she jerked against him powerfully. It was as if Hermione hadn't had sex in years.

The fact was she hadn't. And she was making up for it now.

"Give me that cock, pureblood!" Hermione cried out passionately, whirling on his tool and tightening up.

Draco cringed even as he gasped because that voice was not one he expected to come out of her mouth. It was deep, hollow and distinctly male. A bit of smoke wafted out of her nose

Shit!

"Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!" Hermione howled in a high-pitched but definitely female voice as she orgasmed hard, the force of it choking Draco's cock before searing juices covered it, the witch quaking against him as a long forgotten and very much needed bliss washed over her. He could hear her toes crack.

"Fuck, that was good," Hermione breathed against his ear just as Draco came as well, forcing himself deeper into his mistress and filling her with spurt after spurt of creamy come.

It was good, but Draco wasn't used to such treatment. He was always the dominator during sex. He didn't like being the submissive. He did feel like the witch's bitch. And worse, he felt used and had been nearly scared to death at the way her eyes were and her voice changed. It was like Hermione was possessed.

The witch climbed off Draco and looked at his flaccid organ and beautiful body with appreciation. His long blonde hair was tousled and damp, and he glistened with perspiration. A scarlet and gold collar was fastened around his neck.

"I think I'll keep you, Draco," Hermione said, flicking her hand at him, Scourgifying him instantly. "Now get the hell off my throne!"

Draco quickly got out of the throne and hurried down the stairs, turning to face Hermione then lowering himself on one knee, his head bowed. Hermione cleaned and dressed herself, cleaned the throne, then sat down on it imperiously, staring down at the pureblood.

"You may rise," she said softly.

Draco stood, looking up at her, his gray eyes steady. Hermione flicked her hand at him and he was dressed in splendid black robes. But the Gryffindor collar was still visible. He was also aware he didn't have on anything beneath them.

"You've served me well, Draco. You will dwell with me here in the fortress for most of the time. I will allow you to go home when you have a need. You will be to me what Peter was to Voldemort, although you will have different duties. Having you under my thumb is quite satisfying and it doesn't have to be unpleasant for you."

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"But you will fuck no one but me," she growled.

Draco's eyes widened. He had several mistresses and a fiancé.

"But I am to be married," he told Hermione.

"Fine, when you marry her, you can fuck her. She'll be your wife after all, but you will still service me until I tire of you. If your 'fiancée' can't handle those arrangements, I suggest she find another husband," Hermione said coldly.

"You're not much of a Gryffindor," Draco said before he could help himself. Damn, now she was going to Crucio him.

But Hermione's eyes just narrowed.

"No, I'm not. Being a Gryffindor cost me my two best friends. All that sense of fair play led to their murders. We should have played just as dirty as Voldemort. We should have slaughtered his Death Eaters and supporters on sight. Killed every blasted one of them. So many worthy lives would have been saved by the destruction of the unfit who followed him—"

Draco paled at the malice in her voice as Hermione's eyes reddened.

"You're lucky, Draco, that I didn't become what I am sooner, or there would be no Malfoys or Blacks or any living Death Eaters. As it stands, my half-soul is growing. A year and a half ago I would have killed every Death Eater and their families in retribution without the slightest remorse. My hatred was unearthly, my rage, terrible. It was what fired me, what strengthened me, what took over me during my training. It was what destroyed your master, and those eleven who challenged me. But I purposely waited to return, wanting to have some of my humanity back, just enough to spare all of you. If I had come back earlier, I can say with certainty, only Severus Snape would have survived the holocaust I would have inflicted on all of you. So be glad I've decided to fuck you rather than kill you, Draco. This could have been much worse. Obey me, and things will go well for you. Disobey me and—"

Suddenly, Draco was screaming, tied to a spit and slowly turning over licking tongues of flame. He could feel his skin cooking, hear it sizzling. All around him was the sounds of demonic laughter, something croaking "Baste him a little more!"

Then he was back in front of Hermione, gasping, touching himself as he still smelled the stench of burning flesh.

"Just an illusion, but I have the power to make it reality, Draco, so don't test me. Just be a good little boy toy toady and we'll do fine. Now, how does a girl get a decent meal around here? I'm famished."

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A/N: Just a little something for this story. Thanks for reading. ***


	3. Summoned

**Chapter 3 ~ Summoned**

Severus Snape was just heading for supper when he felt a pulse from his dark mark. It wasn't painful, however, just a kind of powerful throb.

Apparently, he was being summoned by Hermione. Technically, he was still her subject and would be as long as he had the mark. At least her summons didn't invoke great pain like Voldemort's had.

He turned back toward his office, weaving his way through the Slytherins heading for supper, the students quickly parting so as not to impede him. Impeding Snape could have disastrous results on their free time, accident or not.

The wizard swooped into his office, warded the door and entered his private quarters. He strode to his bedroom, opened a panel hidden in the stone wall and pulled out his Death Eater robes and half skull mask. He didn't know if Hermione would be as formal as Voldemort. He wasn't taking any chances.

Once he was properly suited up, he answered the summons and was taken to the Dark Lady's presence. He appeared before the throne, rising from a swirl of black smoke. He immediately dropped to one knee, his head bowed.

"My lady," he said softly.

Hermione looked down at the wizard.

"Stand up, professor and take off that ridiculous mask. You do not have to kneel in my presence or wear that horrible thing," she told him. "That's for the formerly loyal followers of Voldemort, not you. You were never his man."

Snape straightened, lowered his hood, removed his mask and stuck it in his pocket. His dark eyes rested on the witch.

"Thank you, my lady," he said.

Hermione thought he still had the sexiest voice she'd ever heard. Her eyes flicked over him thoughtfully as the pale wizard stood there. His hair was still lank, his nose still hooked and enormous, but the wizard was appealing on a number of levels. She sat in silence, studying him for several minutes. Then she spoke.

"You do realize, professor, that although you will most likely receive preferential treatment from me, you are still my servant," she said, her voice a bit harsh.

"Yes, my lady," Snape replied.

"Good. I wanted to be sure that we understood each other. Did you give my message to the Headmaster?" she asked him.

"Yes, my lady. He was—stunned," Snape replied.

Hermione gave a little unpleasant laugh.

"I imagine he was. I suppose you are to spy on me now, aren't you, professor?"

Snape's eyes widened, and Hermione's lips quirked. The wizard knew better than to lie, but maybe he could soften it a little.

"He has asked me to keep an eye out, my lady," he admitted.

"Keep an eye out?" Hermione said, then she laughed outright. "That's a very nice way of saying 'spy,' professor. But he isn't dealing with Voldemort. I know how he operates, and I know what purpose you served in the ranks. I didn't think he would let you resign. I am a new power. No doubt he wants to know whether I am good or at least less evil than Voldemort. What do you think, professor? Am I good, or evil?"

"I don't have enough information to make a decision like that, my lady. There are gray areas concerning good and evil, and most of us fall into that shaded place when it comes to our motives. I am certainly no authority on good although I have seen much evil. I cannot in good conscience give you an answer to that."

Hermione twirled her wand.

"A fair answer, professor. We all must gather our facts, which is why I have summoned you here. I need a service from you," she said, rising from her throne and descending the stairs. Snape stood stiffly as she approached him. Hermione was about five foot six. He had a few inches on her.

She stopped in front of him.

"Lean down, professor," she said softly.

Snape did as she asked, and watched as she lifted her hand, then slowly caressed his hooked nose.

"I've always wanted to do that," she breathed, a crooked smile appearing on her face as he quirked an eyebrow at her. Then she ran her fingers through his lank black hair. She removed them, examining her digits thoughtfully.

"Not a bit of grease," she remarked. "Your hair is just very fine. I've always wanted to touch it as well. Thank you for slaking my curiosity. You may stand tall again.

Snape stood up straight, and Hermione walked around him consideringly.

"I imagine you are wondering what service I wish from you," she said to him as she halted in front of him again.

"Yes, I am curious, my lady," Snape responded.

Hermione gave him a rather sexy smile, which surprised the wizard, although he didn't outwardly react. She turned and walked back up the stairs and settled in her throne.

"I have a few plans for you, professor, but for right now, I need your services as an Advisor. Draco has his talents, but I prefer the point of view from someone who was never a follower of Voldemort. Someone I think I could trust. I believe, despite your having to 'keep an eye out,' I can trust you to advise me and familiarize me with the way Voldemort ran his operation. I was thinking of torturing information out of my followers, and to be honest, that isn't completely off the table, but it would be less time consuming if I could simply have my questions answered. I also need someone to represent me, be my right hand man when dealing with Dumbledore, the Ministry and the public in general. I would like you to be that person, professor. You do accept, don't you?"

By the way Hermione's eyes were glittering, Snape knew she really wasn't asking him a question. She had made it clear he was her servant. She didn't expect a 'no.'

"I'd be honored to be of service, my lady."

"You're a very wise wizard, professor. Now, I have a few questions to ask you," Hermione said, flicking her wand so a comfortable armchair appeared by the wizard.

"Sit"

Snape sat down, his eyes on the witch curiously. She certainly had the air of a queen about her. He sort of liked it. Better than the simpering chit she used to be, brilliant as she was.

"Now, I need to know, does Voldemort have any assets?" she asked him.

Snape nodded.

"He has a treasure room on the premises. But it is guarded by very deadly wards. You cannot even enter the corridor without dying. Only Peter could pass through it."

Hermione snorted.

"That's not a problem for me, professor. That's good. Now, how does he gather his treasure?"

"He gets tribute from the Death Eaters each month, as well as some Ministry officials," Snape said.

Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"Who are the officials?" she asked.

"Their names are in a charmed ledger kept in the treasure chamber. Peter handled all of the details," Snape informed her. "Again, to touch that ledger—"

"Means death. Again, I'm not concerned about that, professor. My powers will protect me, believe me. Not even the Killing curse can affect me as I am now."

Snape looked skeptical. He couldn't help it.

"You look as if you don't believe me, professor," Hermione growled at him.

"Forgive me, my lady, but as you know I am a product of my surroundings. I have always been taught there is no defense against the Killing curse."

Hermione gave him a very predatory smile that rather chilled him, it was so feral.

"No earthly defense," she said, accentuating the word 'earthly.'

She rose from her throne again, walked down the stairs and past Snape. When she was about twenty feet away she turned to him, her arms at her side.

"Cast the Kedavra spell on me, professor. It is not a request," she said darkly.

Snape rose from his chair, not bothering to question her or hesitate. If she died, it would be her own fault and he'd be free of his service both to her and Dumbledore. She was interesting, but his world wouldn't be affected by her absence. He took out his wand and focused his intent, staring at the witch.

"Avada Kedavra!" he roared, casting the green light at her.

Although Hermione's hair and robes whipped around her as she was bathed in the dread light, she didn't stumble and didn't fall. Snape held the curse on her a full thirty seconds before he stopped, exhausted.

Hermione looked at the panting wizard, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"Well, I can't say you didn't try," she said to him as she walked past him again, up the stairs and back to her throne of bones. She sat down. "I imagine you are convinced."

Snape wasn't just convinced, he was amazed. She should have died several times over with the amount of intent he had combined with the length of the spell.

"How—how did you . . ."

Hermione gave him a small smile.

"I have a little bit more than a half-soul, professor, which means I have a half life. The curse can only take a person's entire life. A loophole of sorts, at least until my soul regrows completely. So, although surviving the Killing curse is a wonderful ability, it is a temporary one. Don't worry, I am not invincible for good. But I have other protective abilities that don't even require invocation. Killing me is extremely difficult because technically, I have the physical nature of a demon until I'm fully restored."

"Half a soul? How can that be?" Snape asked her, returning to the armchair.

"Perhaps I will tell you, professor, but first, I have another question. Do you know the identities of the Death Eaters who killed Harry and Ron?"

Snape paled. Hermione saw his reluctance.

"Professor, you have undergone torture under the Dark Lord and it was terrible. As much as I like and respect you and wish you no harm, I really need to know this. I must avenge the death of my friends and release the hatred inside me. Please, tell me who they are. I don't want to have to resort to torturing you for the information. They are murderers, professor, and deserve punishment. Now, tell me."

"Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Bellatrix LeStrange, Antonin Dolohov and Walden Macnair," Snape said quietly.

Hermione didn't say anything at first, her face contorting.

"Dolohov nearly killed me in the Department of Mysteries," she growled, her eyes reddening frightfully.

Snape watched the transformation. For a moment, she looked less than human, but then her eyes fell on him and her rage seemed to die down.

"Thank you for telling me, professor," she said with a controlled voice. "I'll deal with them shortly. Now, you're curious as to how I received such power, I imagine?"

Snape nodded.

"Well, Draco shouldn't be back for a while. I sent him to get food supplies. This place has no food at all. He's paying for all of it, of course. I think we have time. So settle in and listen, professor. Becoming who I am was no cakewalk, believe me."

* * *

After the deaths of Harry and Ron, Hermione went mad from grief and guilt. She was supposed to have met them and gone to the Quidditch match, but Hermione skived off on them and didn't show. When they were ambushed, she hadn't been there to help them. She might have been able to save them, or help turn the battle to their favor. It was as if she'd helped murder them and there was no solace for her.

She ran through the streets of Hogsmeade and Wizarding London at first, screaming at the top of her lungs for the murderers to show themselves, to fight her, to try and kill her. She was heard too, but Voldemort gave orders that no one engage her and let her go mad with rage and guilt. He delighted in her misery and believed it to be a better punishment than the peace of death. After about two days of ranting and raving, Hermione was forcibly taken to St. Mungo's for treatment, but nothing seemed to help the witch. It was as if all she knew was hatred and rage.

"Kill them all!" she'd screech at the top of her voice, her cries echoing through the hospital. "Kill every bloody Death Eater and their entire families! Kill them! It's the only way we'll have peace!"

Eventually they put her in the psychiatric ward, feeding her potions to keep her subdued. But she'd mutter her hatred anyway. One day, her room was entered, the door strangely unwarded. They found a nearly naked medi-witch on the floor with a huge bump on her head, a tray of food scattered on the floor and Hermione—gone.

Because of the attack, and Hermione's state, the Ministry put out a wizarding world wide manhunt for her. Aurors sought her everywhere, even her parent's home, but they couldn't find her.

Hermione hadn't headed for London. Instead, she headed for the Highlands—the mountains. She had stolen a cornucopia from a wizarding food shop, some clothing from a line and took off. It had been a terrible journey, but she was still mad and had the strength of a person no longer connected to the world by anything but her hatred. She had no wand either, and that was a good thing. In her state, she may have injured or killed many people.

She found herself in the Rothiemurchus Forest, at the foothills of Ben MacDhui, Scotland's second highest mountain peak. She began to climb, driven. Without ropes, without spikes and without a thought for her life, the little witch climbed, clinging to stones and outcrops where necessary, heading for gods knew where. Maybe to throw herself off the top in despair.

"And that's when I met him. He was sitting on a rock, playing a flute as if he were waiting for me," Hermione said in a hollow voice. She was staring into space.

"You met who?" Snape asked her, enthralled.

Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes just as hollow as her voice. Like this, she looked very much like her old self—vulnerable.

"Him. Liath Greyman," she answered softly. "My master."

* * *

A/N: Just a little more for Dark Lady. I'm blending a bit of Scottish folklore into the story. It will vary greatly from the true myth because I'm going to put my own twist to it, but you can google "The Grey Man of Ben MacDhui" for more info. Thanks for reading.


	4. Liath Greyman

**Chapter 4 ~ Liath Greyman**

Hermione heard the flute music long before she made it up to the next outcrop of rock. She saw a man sitting cross-legged on a boulder, playing a flute. He wore a beige tunic, brown peasant-like pants, ragged brown boots and a dark brown leather vest. He had long black hair and strangely colored eyes. She couldn't tell what color they were, not that she looked long as she walked past him, heading for more level ground.

The man stopped playing the flute, hopped off the rock and hurried past her, blocking Hermione's way on the rather thin path. It was barely wide enough for a person to walk up.

"Hey there. Don't you know it's rude to walk past a person without giving him a greeting, lassie?" the man said to her with a smile.

Hermione frowned at him.

"Are you a wizard?" she asked him.

The man looked surprised.

"What? A wizard? Are you mad?" he responded, cocking his head at her.

"Good," Hermione said, pushing him off the ledge, the man giving a startled shout and plunging earthward. Hermione didn't even peer over to see if he were dashed against the mountain. He was out of her way, and that was enough. Human life meant nothing to her any longer.

She had an easy walk for the next quarter mile, then suddenly, she heard the flute music again. There was a lot of mist here, and the music seemed to come from all around her.

"That was a rather nasty thing to do to a man," a familiar voice said.

Hermione stopped walking, frowning. Didn't she just get rid of that arsehole?

"I haven't felt so much hate radiating off a single human being in millennia," the voice said.

Hermione saw a shape walking through the mist. It was odd and twisted, but when it emerged it was the same man.

"Didn't I just kill you?" Hermione seethed, irritated to see him again.

The man arched an eyebrow at her.

"No, but you gave it a good try. You can't kill me. I'm immortal. My name is Liath Greyman. I live here, if you can call this living," the man said, frowning as he looked at the stone and mists. He looked back at her.

"And you are Hermione Granger, madwoman of Hogwarts," he added with a thin smile. "I've been waiting for you. You and your delicious hatred."

"How do you know my name?" Hermione asked him.

"Human minds are as transparent as glass to someone like me," he replied. "I know everything about you. I even know what you don't know about yourself. Like how you are about to suicide. Such a waste."

"I'm not!" Hermione yelled at him.

"Oh, but you are, if you make it to the top of the mountain. Misery will do that to a person. You want to die a magnificent death. The problem is half-way down, you're going to change your mind and it will be too late. I won't be able to help you either. Once a human being decides to act, then acts, no demon can interfere."

Hermione stared at him.

"Demon? You're a demon?" she asked him disbelievingly.

"Oops. Didn't mean to let you know that so soon, but yes, I am a demon. A banished demon. I've been here for ages, stampeding mortals from time to time. Have you heard of the Grey Man of Ben MacDhui?"

Hermione's head felt clearer than it had in months as she talked to this man who claimed to be a demon and more. She snorted as she accessed her knowledge bank.

"There is no Grey Man of Ben MacDhui! It's a myth based on people coming into contact with a phenomenon known as the Brocken spectre, when the sun is at a particular angle and throws a person's shadow on the mists. It's magnified and seems to move when the mists shift," Hermione said disdainfully. "People are just fleeing themselves."

Liath studied her.

"I see I have a know-it-all on my hands. Well—"

Suddenly in Liath's place stood a ten foot tall shaggy gray beast that looked for all the world like a Bigfoot, which also didn't exist.

Hermione let out a scream as the Grey Man snarled and took a swipe at her with a huge, clawed hand. She dodged the blow and quickly ran across the landscape. She could hear his great steps make the ground shudder as he chased her. Damn, why didn't she believe him?

Because his claim was ridiculous, that's why. Suddenly, the lumbering footfalls stopped, but Hermione kept running, looking behind her until she suddenly crashed into someone and fell back to the ground. Liath looked down at her, his head cocked.

"My, you're a fast little rabbit," the demon said. "Get up. I want to talk to you about something. Something I hope you'll consider."

"I know better than to strike up a deal with a demon," Hermione said as she stood up. "All you want to do is take my soul for your dark master."

Liath rolled his eyes.

"I told you, I'm a banished demon. I am no longer in Hell's employ. But I'm stuck on this mountain and part of the forest below. I can be freed to at least roam the earth if I turn a mortal to true evil. They put me here so my chances of finding anyone suitable were next to nil. All that ever come through here are happy tourists, loving the beauty of the mountain and yadda, yadda. It's nauseating. But I felt you, and managed to draw you to me because you're so full of hate. Your heart is full of murder. I was like a magnet. You're perfect, Hermione. You have enough hatred for at least two hundred of your kind. That's a lot of hatred."

"I won't turn to evil," Hermione declared.

"You already have. If you could, you'd kill every Death Eater alive. And if you get past me, you'll kill yourself. That's a huge no-no in some cosmic plans. Definitely an evil act. So, pardon the cliché, but you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. Besides, don't you want to get back at Voldemort? Kill him and avenge your friends? He ordered their deaths, you know."

"I'm not powerful enough to kill Voldemort, even if I could find him. I mean, I'd gladly face him as is, but it's not possible. If I go back to the wizarding world, I'll be locked away for good. They think I'm insane."

Hermione didn't question how Liath knew about Voldemort or Harry and Ron. Obviously, he did know about her intimately. The demon confirmed what she said.

"You are insane, although you have clarity for the moment. I can help you keep that clarity of purpose and help you become powerful enough to face Voldemort and his entire army. I can make you so powerful, you'll be almost immortal. I can make it so you can kill and kill and no blemish will be on your soul, whether your victims are innocent or guilty."

"Yeah, I bet. By taking my soul. No," Hermione said.

Liath scowled at her. Foolish mortal. They were all so foolish, all so caught up in bits and scraps of mythologies they didn't understand at all. All they ever had were pieces of the truth, and they forced them together like a mismatched jigsaw puzzle, making their inaccurate theories fit and claiming to have full knowledge. Why angels and demons were supposed to serve them was beyond Liath's knowledge. Most mortals were idiots and born that way. Well, this woman had no idea what his offer was and she was turning him down. He decided to make another effort.

"I don't need your entire soul, Hermione. Only half of it. Souls taken in such a way regenerate and become whole again after time. Of course, once your soul is fully restored you will no longer have the powers I've taught you. You will be an ordinary witch again. But, your soul will be pure. Sin cannot stick to a partial soul, so if Heaven is your goal in the Afterlife, you can get there. But there are better places to go. Heaven is rather humdrum compared to other cosmic plans. Harps, floating about, no sex—blech."

Hermione studied him.

"What would you do with a half soul?" she asked him.

"I'd become mortal of course, once it becomes whole. As a banished demon, I can neither enter Hell nor Heaven. This world is going to end one day because the sun will go out. Everything will be sucked into non-being. There will be no more men to tempt and torment, no more souls entering and re-entering the world. I will be left in utter darkness or be forced to sit outside the Gates of Heaven or Hell forever. Not a pleasant thought. But, as a mortal, I can use a loophole and join in one of the cosmic plans when I die. As long as I have a soul, they must accept me."

Hermione considered this. But how long would she have this power? She asked Liath.

"How fast your soul will grow depends on you, where you go, who you associate with. If you reside with people who are kind, good and well-meaning, generous of heart and spirit, your soul will probably fill out inside of a year because of their influence. But, if you hang about with people of low character, people who are cruel, immoral with selfish hearts and bad intentions, your soul will hardly grow at all. In other words, those who inspire your love and care will cause your soul to expand, and those who incite your rage and hatred will keep your soul stagnant. To keep your powers, you have to be in suitable surroundings to stifle your soul. Killing helps," he informed her.

"So, you're telling me that I will keep my powers only as long as I continue to do evil?" she asked him.

"Something like that. Staying suitably bad, with the occasional act of cruelty, treachery or murder will keep you going for a long time. However, I must warn you that there are good moments even for the evil, moments that will give the soul growth despite how wretched they are. All men can be touched by Good."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth?" Hermione asked Liath. "Demons aren't known for their honesty. All I've read about them states they will do anything to get a human soul. You could say you only want half, then take the whole thing. Then where would I be?"

"Dead. And your soul wouldn't take. I can't take the entire soul of a person that doesn't give me permission. Trickery only works if I'm working for the Father of Lies. Which I'm not. I don't have the power to take a soul without his backup. I have to acquire it truthfully in order for it to be of any use to me.

"Demons can take half souls, quarter souls or even an eight of a soul. But most go for the full Monty because our master doesn't smile on bits and pieces. Your own dark lord is nearly soulless. He only carries a bit more than an eighth of a soul inside him. He's fragmented himself and stays evil so nothing good settles on him. He's done this instinctively, no demon is involved. His powers, although admirable will not surpass yours if you accept my offer. As I share your soul, you share my power, the power of Hell itself. He can't stand against it. You can have your revenge."

Hermione considered.

"You said you can teach me. I think you're trying to trick me, Liath. You said I'd share your power if I give you half my soul. So shouldn't the transference be instantaneous?" she asked him shrewdly.

"They'll do you no good if you aren't taught how to use them. You have to crawl before you sprint, Hermione. You will be like an infant fresh from the womb. You will have to be taught to use your gift."

"How long?" she asked.

"Five of your mortal years," the demon responded. "There will be much pain. Much pain. Only your hatred will give you the strength to continue. You must be celibate for those five years as well. No man can touch you intimately. But, if you feel you cannot go on, you have an out. You will be able to leave me, find some good people to reside with and your soul will still be restored. You will have wasted an opportunity to avenge those you loved, but those are the breaks. I can give you no fairer offer than that, witch."

"Let me think about it for a few moments," she said to the demon.

Liath bowed.

"I will withdraw," he said softly, walking away into the mists. As he departed however, he withdrew a bit of the clarity he provided the mortal, so her hatred and madness returned, just enough to fill her heart and mind, but keep his offer present. As the rage filled her again, so did her lust for blood. She'd be able to kill Voldemort. And in order to keep her power, she could stay among the Death Eaters. They were the lowest kind of people there were in her estimation, and she hated all of them, except one. That would keep her soul from growing quite nicely. She'd make herself their leader.

"Liath! Liath! I will do it!" she cried toward the mist.

Suddenly, Hermione felt a powerful force come down on her, nearly suffocating her as Liath strode out of the mist. He seemed bigger, more imposing for some reason.

"It has been accepted," he said, and Hermione felt the pressure ease off. She gasped up at him.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"A binding of sorts. You cannot change your mind now," the demon breathed, beginning to pull his shirt out of his trousers, his strange eyes glowing red.

"What—what are you doing?" Hermione asked him.

Liath gave her a lustful smirk.

"To collect your soul, I must go inside you," the demon said, pulling out a large and rather red erection. The head of his cock had little nocks in it.

"In the traditional manner," he breathed, grabbing Hermione and turning her around.

"Your celibacy will begin—afterwards," he breathed into the witch's ear. "You won't be anxious for another encounter for quite a while, believe me."

Taking Hermione down to the stony ground and positioning her on all fours, Liath pulled down her jeans and knickers, then went at her hard, deep and fast, turning into his true winged form when he ejaculated. Hermione screamed as his cock became spined all along its length, like that of an animal, barbs piercing her soft fleshy sleeve and binding them together like dogs which had finished copulating. His come was abnormally hot and she could feel it filling her to the brim.

Oh gods, could he get her pregnant?

"I will not impregnate you," the demon hissed, his forked tongue flicking out in pleasure as Hermione sobbed from the pain inside her. She recoiled as she saw his scaly clawed hand gripping her shoulder. It was crimson red and shining as the mists closed over them. She looked over her shoulder and could see only a winged silhouette, large horns sprouting from either side of the demon's head. Then she felt a jerk, wrench and tearing inside her, which was followed by a sense of something missing, followed by vertigo—

Then, everything went black.

* * *

A/N: I hope this was interesting. I tried setting this up so it could be understood exactly why Hermione is acting so OCC. I like her as a dark lady, but there has to be a good reason for her to be the way she is. To slow her soul from reforming and to keep her powers as long as possible. Personally, I thought it was a pretty good deal, although Liath did have the advantage because Hermione had lost her mind. Ah well. Things happen don't they? Thanks for reading. ***


	5. Snape Goes on a Mission

Chapter 5 ~ Snape Goes on a Mission

Hermione regained consciousness, aware that she was being held and her face was pressed against something very warm. She was sucking on something and her mouth was filled with warm bitterness. She swallowed, choked and nearly gagged as she desperately pulled away from whatever she was lying against.

She fell back on her hands and looked up at Liath, who was back to human form. He was bare-chested and the area around his right nipple was wet. He looked down on her soberly, his strangely colored eyes shifting from blue, to green, to hazel to brown in his otherwise handsome face. He stood up.

"You've awakened. Good," the demon said.

Hermione gagged again.

"Were you—you breastfeeding me?" she choked.

"You needed the nourishment to survive," he said, pulling the beige tunic over his head, then putting on his vest.

"That's disgusting," Hermione spat, wiping at her mouth.

"I disagree. I found it quite pleasurable," Liath replied.

Hermione looked at her surroundings. They were inside a large cave, spluttering torches on the wall. There were no furnishings she could see.

"Welcome home. This is where you will reside with me for the next five years," Liath said, walking into an area of darkness. Hermione could hear clanking and tinkling and her eyes widened as the demon exited the dark area with a whip, his eyes glittering. He walked up to her, looking down.

"There will be no kindness, no mercy, no relief. Your hatred will be fanned for me, and for the world. Your soul cannot start to mend, and your attachment to me will be unhealthy, wrong. When your powers manifest, they will be born from the fires within you, born of exquisite torment, like that of all the damned. If I instruct you properly, you will hate me with all the malice that you hate your enemies."

Something hit the ground next to Hermione.

"Pick it up," Liath hissed at her, letting the whip uncoil, his eyes becoming a hellish red.

Hermione felt about, not taking her eyes off the whip wielding demon. She felt something thin and long and grabbed it, staring at the object in disbelief.

"My wand," she breathed.

"Yes. I retrieved it from some hospital in your world. You are a very convenient student in that I won't have to waste precious moments keeping you attached to your mortal coil after your tortures. You will be able to heal yourself."

Hermione looked up at him.

"Heal myself?" she asked him, her brow wrinkled.

"Yes, heal yourself," Liath hissed, turning into his demonic form and putting the lash to work.

For the next five years, Hermione went through indescribable pain and torture under the demon, being tried by fire, water, air and earth. Stumbling naked through the elements, suffering great heat, and freezing winds. She was manacled to walls for days, pelted by stones, struck with clubs. She was beaten daily and fed at Liath's breast for two years before she was weaned and able to fend for herself. The demon never showed her the least kindness for the sake of her soul. He did fan the hatred, lecturing her on the cruelty of her enemies, never letting her forget their crimes against her, even showing her the ambush and how Harry and Ron died, but not revealing their killers, the faces shadowed. But she heard the gloating and the laughter, saw how the corpses were kicked about and urinated on.

Hermione's hatred knew no end. She lived and breathed it. It manifested in her dreams. She was only allowed to use her wand to heal her wounds, cuts and bruises. She was not allowed to use magic to make herself comfortable beyond that. She could not use it to light fires or make water. Her cornucopia was destroyed by Liath. If she wanted food she had to ask him to suckle her or go out on her own and kill something with her growing powers. She was forced to eat her kills raw until she could create fire from within.

Eventually, she was able to create fire, many different types of fire. Especially Hell-fire, which was quite versatile as it obeyed her commands and could be whatever temperature she desired, even freezing. Once she learned to aim properly, she could cook an animal where it stood provided she hit it. It was excellent practice. For water, she pounded wide bowls out of stone and set them out at night along the mountain where the mists were heaviest. In the morning hours she would painstakingly collect the small puddles that formed inside the bowls and carefully poured them into an animal skin pouch she made with her own hands, and sip on it throughout the day. It was a hard life, a terrible life for the most part, but she thrived as much as anyone could thrive under such circumstances. Not once did she think of leaving. She had something to do.

Finally, after five years of harsh living, torment and instruction, Liath Greyman and Hermione Granger went their separate ways, Hermione seeking out the Dark Lord, and Liath once again free to roam the earth and make himself mortal.

The demon thought a few years of service in a monastery or church would speed up the process very nicely.

* * *

Snape blinked at Hermione.

"You—you engaged a demon, my Lady?" he said in disbelief.

Hermione scowled at him.

"I thought I told you to call me, Hermione," she snarled.

"Hermione," Snape said quickly. Hermione's eyes had reddened frightfully while she told the story of her years with Liath. They still were filled with that unholy light.

"Yes, I did, or I wouldn't have said it," Hermione hissed at him, then pulled out a parchment from her robes pocket and handed it to Snape.

"You are to take this to the Ministry immediately and deliver it directly to the Minister of Magic. It is a letter stating my demands as the Dark Lady, and contains details of what my reign over the Death Eaters will consist of. They are under my rule, and I will serve as judge, jury and punisher over them. The Minister and Council must agree to my terms. They are not unreasonable considering my position and how Voldemort was concerning his legions. Since some of the officials paid him tribute, the Dark Lord had friends or subjects in the Ministry. So, I am hoping that they will agree to this and continue to send their tributes. The only thing that has changed under my rule is there will be no more Death Eater attacks on the public. They are all still my servants and will continue to be until I say otherwise."

Snape turned over the letter in his pale hands curiously.

Hermione's eyes cut toward him, cooling somewhat.

"Don't open that letter, professor. It is meant only for the Minister of Magic. If you do, it will be unfortunate, and your demise quite the tragedy," she said with a small smirk.

Snape nodded, then studied the witch.

"They will want to know why you haven't appeared yourself," Snape said. "The Minister will not like an underling addressing him."

Hermione looked thoughtful, then said, "Hold out your hand, palm down."

Snape did so.

"This is going to hurt a bit," the witch breathed, pointed a finger at Snape's hand.

A stream of light issued from the tip, wrapping around the wizard's ring finger. Snape grimaced as white hot heat seared his hand and a ring formed. He could smell the burned flesh as the pain suddenly vanished. A ring of dark gold with a black stone with the letters HG etched in it rested on his hand. Closer examination showed images of demons made up the ring. It was an unholy thing, he was sure.

"That is your authority to speak for me, professor. If anyone questions why I do not appear myself, you are to say, my mistress only appears when there are—problems."

Hermione wasn't going to risk sitting down and negotiating reasonably, because of the possibility that such proceedings would help her soul grow. This was the same reason she didn't go to see Dumbledore. Seeing him would definitely cause her to feel some good emotions such as joy, relief, a sense of friendship. Possibly love. Even seeing Hogwarts could inspire fond memories that would swell her heart. All of these things could weaken her, speed up her soul's healing. As the newly seated Dark Lady over a throng of Death Eaters that would love to see her dead, she couldn't afford that.

She had to remain strong and dark to keep her powers.

Snape had a feeling this wasn't going to go smoothly. Politics never did.

* * *

"What? Autonomous rule over wizarding citizens? Never!" Minister Odius Titwilder blustered, his thick jowls quivering and his thick brows drawn together like two impenetrable hedges. His thick lips glistened and he rubbed his hand over his balding scalp in anger.

"Minister, I understand your concern," Snape said reasonably, "but Voldemort held full sway over the Death Eaters as well. He was judge, jury and executioner. Miss Granger is only asking that since she removed Voldemort from the equation, that she be allowed to preside over those bound to her as she sees fit."

"No. And how dare she send you to negotiate this situation. Why didn't she come herself?"

"My Lady says that she only appears when there are problems, Minister," Snape replied coolly.

"Well, she's going to have to show up then, because there are definitely problems," the Minister snapped.

Snape studied the wizard. He didn't understand how powerful Hermione was, nor how dark.

"Minister, may I be candid with you?" Snape asked.

Furious, the Minister folded his thick arms and nodded.

"Hermione Granger is no ordinary witch. She entered Voldemort's chambers and killed him like he was little more than a helpless child. She also bested eleven Death Eaters that challenged her coup. At once, sir. There wasn't even a duel. She just destroyed them, and was well within her rights to do so since they intended to destroy her. For years, the Ministry has attempted to bring Voldemort down, along with the Order of the Phoenix. Miss Granger has removed the problem and is asking not for a reward but to maintain control over the following she has acquired. It is a simple case of to the victor goes the spoils. If you refuse her, you may ignite another war, sir. There are only two hundred Death Eaters at the most, sir, compared to the rest of our population. She is setting forth a plan of reparations to make up for their acts against society, so she isn't trying to form an army. She's only asking for the right to mete out judgment against them."

"No. I am the main Authority in the wizarding world. I will not have one iota of my power taken by a witch who was lucky enough to get the drop on the Dark Lord," the Minister huffed. "She is to turn over a list of the Death Eaters to me immediately, and they are to be remanded to the custody of the Ministry of Magic."

Then the Minister's eyes narrowed as he looked at Snape, who had a bad feeling.

"In fact, you are under arrest, Mr. Snape. You serving as her envoy is proof you, too, are a Death Eater. Now that your dark master is gone, you will be brought to justice as well. Aurors!"

Instantly, the doors to the Minister's office were flung open and several Aurors strode in, frowning at Snape.

"Take Mr. Snape's wand and lock him up," the Minister said.

The Aurors surrounded Snape, who calmly produced his wand. He stood up and looked at the Minister.

"I think you're going to regret this, Minister. You don't have any idea who you are dealing with. In some ways, Hermione Granger has the capacity to be worse than Voldemort, and you are pressing her . . . "

"You forget, Mr. Snape, that your supposed Dark Lady is still on the wanted list for her attack on a St. Mungo's employee and that she was certifiably insane when she escaped the hospital. Do you really believe I would give any power or respect to someone like that? Take him away."

Snape quietly went with the Aurors.

The Minister relaxed. So, Voldemort was finally dead. That was excellent. Now, he wouldn't have to keep sending tribute to keep the evil despot at bay. All he needed to do was lock up this crazy witch and gather up the Death Eaters. He'd be hailed as the greatest Minister of Magic in years. Re-election was in the bag.

He took out his pipe, filled it and lit it with the tip of his wand, puffing contentedly.

Yes, things were going to work out just fine.

He summoned an Auror.

The door opened and a red-haired young Auror entered, standing at attention.

"I want you to go to the Daily Prophet and tell the editor to send over his best reporter. I have a statement to make of great importance."

"Yes, sir," the Auror said with a bow. He left quickly.

* * *

It took Draco several trips to bring all the food supplies Hermione had ordered to the throne room. He had put everything on his account. Now, dressed only in a leather harness and tight leather trousers that left little to the imagination, he had to put everything away without magic.

Hermione wanted him to see him sweat and that strong, sexy body glisten. She watched him slave from the throne, carrying boxes on his shoulders, his muscles bulging.

"Mmmm," she intoned as he walked back through one of the doors, his abs glistening under the harness' crisscross. Draco really was a beautiful example of man flesh. He was scowling too, which only added to the allure. Maybe she'd do him again after she accessed the treasure room and the ledger.

Then, Hermione thought of something.

"House elves!" she cried.

Immediately five House Elves appeared. They were scarred and trembling, looking down at the floor. Hermione's rested her eyes on them for a moment, then quickly flicked her wand five times, a small shirt appearing before each of them.

"Get out of my sight!" she hissed.

The elves couldn't believe it. She'd given them clothes. She'd freed them. She was—good. They could serve a good mistress.

"We will serves you!" one trembling elf squeaked, stepping forward and looking up at her hopefully.

Hermione blasted the creature to bits and the others grabbed their shirts and winked away forever.

Draco stared at her. He remembered when Hermione had fought for House Elf rights. She had made some kind of stupid club or something. SPAT, SPEW—he couldn't remember the name. But now, she just kills an elf for no other reason than it was willing to serve her? This certainly wasn't the witch he remembered.

Now Hermione brooded on the throne. She had to do it. She felt pity the moment she saw the bent, beaten creatures. It was clear they had been badly mistreated under Voldemort's reign. If they had remained, she would be driven to be kind to them. She couldn't be kind. And when the elf had said he'd serve her, she felt moved, so killed it to stop any growth of her soul and frighten the others away. She felt no remorse. It had to be done.

Her eyes shifted to Draco, who was looking at the splattered bits of elf.

"Get back to work, Draco," she hissed at him.

Draco did so, as Hermione's eyes rested on the remains of the elf, the torn head right at the bottom of her throne, the bulbous eyes dull in death, looking up at her as if to ask "Why?"

She let it remain there, basking in the evil and horror of her act.

* * *

A/N: Wow, that was really cruel. :( Oh no, Snape's been arrested and Hermione is deemed a criminal still. I don't think any good is going to come out of this situation. Nope, not a bit. Thanks for reading.


	6. Hermione to the Rescue

**Chapter 6 ~ Hermione to the Rescue**

Snape sat on a small, hard bed in the dungeon beneath the Ministry of Magic. He was in a holding cell, behind bars and dressed in an orange shirt and pants, both emblazoned with "Property of the MOM." He plucked at it, and looked at his ring with a sigh. The Aurors had tried to remove it, but couldn't, not even with magic.

"It is my envoy ring," Snape explained.

After several attempts, then checking to see if it registered as magical, they left it with Snape, doubling the wards on his cell and placing a guard outside of it. He'd been there for three hours now.

Snape had asked to contact Albus Dumbledore but was refused and told he could speak to someone after he was arraigned on the charges of sedition, treason and aiding and abetting a known criminal. There probably would be additional charges, such as murder, mayhem and malicious behavior as a kind of overall charge for Death Eaters in general.

He sighed and looked down at the ring.

"Not much good, are you?" he said to it softly.

* * *

Hermione, who was in the treasure room reading the names of those who paid tribute to Voldemort, suddenly frowned and looked up. Something wasn't right with her envoy.

She could feel him.

Taking the ledger with her, she left the treasure room, which was loaded with an unconscionable amount of galleons, and returned to her throne room. Draco was in there, reclining on a couch and eating a few grapes. He'd convinced Hermione to let him clean up the dead House Elf because the remains were making him sick to his stomach.

She let him do it, then made him give her a pleasant little round of oral sex. Draco performed well, but didn't like it because she tasted a little of sulphur. She then created him a comfortable couch and table so he could rest but be near her if she needed anything. He was still in his boy toy gear and Gryffindor collar.

Hermione swept by him, moved to the center of the room, then made several motions with her hands. A blaze appeared floating before her. Draco sat up as Hermione made another motion and the fire froze in place. But it was still red and pulsing. She peered into it, and snarled.

She whirled on Draco, her eyes blazing.

"Don't go anywhere," she hissed at him, then burst into fiery sparks, disappearing completely, little embers falling to the floor and dying out without a trace. The throne room smelled slightly of brimstone.

"Damn," Draco breathed, getting up and walking over to the place Hermione had been standing. "I wonder what that's about?"

* * *

_Fwoosh!_

A huge furl of black smoke filled Snape's cell, flames flickering out of the midst of it.

The Auror who was guarding the wizard spun, his wand pointing at the dense black cloud

"Hey! What are you doing in—"

Suddenly he froze solid as Hermione stepped out of the flames, her palm facing him. She turned to look at Snape, who was sitting on the bed waving away the smoke. The smell of brimstone was strong. Hermione turned to him, narrow-eyed and furious.

"What are you doing locked up?" she demanded.

"I was 'doing' my duty as you ordered. The Minister didn't take to your request well. He said I was a Death Eater and arrested me. There is also the little matter of your being a criminal at large that makes him feel you have no right to make any demands," Snape replied calmly.

Hermione clapped her hand over her face.

"Oh, the medi-witch I hit with my food tray. I knocked her out and took her clothing when I escaped St. Mungo's," Hermione said in a muffled voice before dropping her hand. "Why didn't Dumbledore get you out? Even if I hadn't known, surely he would have come and vouched for you."

"He didn't come because I wasn't allowed to contact him. I have to be arraigned first."

"Arraigned?" Hermione hissed a puff of smoke exuding from her flared nostrils. "What are they trying to charge you with?"

Snape counted the charges off on his fingers.

"The charges against me as an individual are aiding and abetting a known criminal—I assume that's you—sedition and treason. I'm sure I will get a few blanket Death Eater charges to boot," the Potions master said. "As soon as they round them all up and put them on trial."

Hermione swelled, literally, becoming crimson red and increasing in girth and height before she calmed and returned to normal. It was very quick, but Snape stared at her with his mouth opened anyway. It took quite a bit of surprise to make the wizard's jaw drop, but Hermione was nearly as high as the ceiling before she deflated.

Snape was playing Devil's Advocate, and for more than Hermione, who was about as close to the devil as he cared to get at this moment. But he was angry at being arrested, although he appeared calm and reasonable about it. He was also very vindictive. Inciting Hermione against Titwilder was just his cup of tea. He knew telling her the Minister wanted to round up the Death Eaters would piss her off even more than his getting arrested.

"All right, all right," Hermione said, pacing back and forth. "I have to think about this."

Suddenly, the door leading to the dungeon opened and another Auror entered. He stopped when he saw his frozen comrade and Hermione pacing back and forth in the cell, Snape watching her as she muttered.

He drew his wand and rushed forward, snarling a hex, but—Hermione carelessly flicked a finger toward him from behind her back, not even looking at the wizard, and he too froze in place.

Snape looked at the blue wizards.

"Er—Hermione—are they dead?" he asked the pacing witch.

"No, and stop talking to me while I think," she snapped at Snape.

Snape thought she'd better think faster or it was going to get very crowded out there.

Finally, Hermione stopped pacing.

"All right, I've got it. I can't take you out of here, because that would make you a fugitive. I need to see if that medi-witch I injured would take reparation from me. A small chest of galleons should be sufficient. You'll go to her after I get you out," Hermione said.

"And how do you plan to do that without making me a fugitive from the law like you are?" Snape asked her.

Hermione pulled Voldemort's ledger from her pocket and gave Snape a perfectly evil smile.

"Persuasion, of course," she purred. "I'll see you later."

With that, Hermione disappeared in a shower of sparks and the scent of brimstone. At least she didn't make smoke when she left.

The Aurors instantly came to life, running toward Snape's cell, wands drawn. Snape simply blinked at their trembling wand tips.

"Where's the smoke?" the first Auror demanded.

"Where's the witch?" the other Auror hissed at Snape, who arched an eyebrow at them.

"I have no idea what either of you are talking about," the dark wizard replied.

The Auror's both lowered their wands and looked at each other.

"I saw smoke and flames."

"I saw you frozen and a witch inside his cell."

Both Aurors looked at Snape who looked back at them calmly. No, they must have been mistaken. If someone or something had been in the cell with him and gone, he would have been gone as well.

"Just relieve me. I think I need a pint and a good rest," the first Auror said, walking past the second and out the door without looking back.

The second Auror pulled a chair from against the wall, set it in the middle of the room and sat down directly facing Snape. He didn't know what the hell was going on here, but he couldn't report something he had no proof of. He'd just keep his eyes on the wizard.

On everything, in fact.

* * *

Odius Titwilder trundled out of the bathroom, dressed in a green striped nightshirt and matching night cap. His wife was already asleep in the bed, her hair in pink curlers and her back turned toward him. The current Minister of Magic made a few weak attempts at touching his toes, but his round belly got in the way. He then stretched and climbed into the bed to lie beside his wife, who snorfled and moved away from him. Used to this reaction, he picked up his wand and used it to lower the torches.

He was excited. Tomorrow the Prophet would announce the rounding up of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord's death. Hermione was mentioned as getting the drop on the wizard as if by accident. Unfortunately, she was mentioned as a criminally insane witch. Everyone knew the criminally insane could do things because of their madness that others couldn't, even feats appearing to require great power when it was usually just dumb luck. He wasn't giving that witch an ounce of credit, and the sooner she was locked up, the better. Imagine, wanting to replace the Dark Lord. He supposed she thought she deserved tribute as well.

Well, he'd give her tribute all right. Three square meals a day in Azkaban.

He turned on his side, away from his snoring wife and closed his eyes, intending on dreaming of Death Eater after Death Eater being dragged through the Ministry doors and scores of voters chanting his name.

It was going to be beautiful. Just beautiful.

_Fwoosh!_

The Minister sat up straight in his bed as a huge plume of fire-flecked black smoke appeared before his bed. He grabbed his wand in terror as Hermione appeared, her eyes red and glittering as she stared at the wizard.

Titwilder was so frightened, he didn't think twice about the hex he used on this invader with eyes as red as those of the Dark Lord.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shrieked, bathing Hermione in the green light.

She stood there, grinning at him as her hair and robes whipped around her. Strangely, Titwilder's wife didn't move. The Minister stopped for a moment before he tried again.

"Avada Kedavra!" he cried, the light once again covering the witch, who now had her head cocked and eyes narrowed.

The wizard stopped again, breathing heavily, sweat beading his forehead and wetting the edges of his night cap.

"Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione sighed, walked up to the side of the bed and plucked his wand out of his hand.

"You could do that until you can't lift your arm and it won't make any difference. I'm Hermione Granger, the new leader of the Death Eaters," she informed the trembling wizard, who looked up at her wide-eyed.

"No one survives the Killing curse!" he gasped at her.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then cuffed him hard on the side of the head. He squealed like a piglet in terror.

"Don't be stupid," she hissed at him. "Now, firstly, I've heard that you refuse to grant me autonomy over the Death Eaters. They belong to me. I got them fair and square. It seems to me that you believe I am not as powerful as the former Dark Lord."

Titwilder couldn't speak.

"I assure you I am, Minister. I could turn you to ash with just a flick of my finger. But, as pleasant as that would be, it would be murder, despite you trying to kill me right off the Bludger. I'm so far above you in the magical chain, you might as well be a dust mite."

Titwilder's mouth worked as if it were full of hard chewing gum.

Suddenly, the entire room around him burst into flame. The walls, floor and ceiling, tongues of fire licking about, but not burning anything. Still, he could feel the heat. It was as if he were in the midst of Hell itself. His wife snored peacefully beside him.

"Now that I have your attention, Minister," Hermione said in a business-like voice as she whipped out the ledger. "I'd like to inform you that I have no problem resorting to blackmail in order to gain your cooperation. You are one of several Ministry officials that regularly contributed to Voldemort's coffers. It's all here in this little book, the dates, the amounts, the accounts the tributes came from, everything. I imagine this information would be very interesting to your constituents. Not to mention the wizarding public. How many years do you think a Minister of Magic would get for consorting with the evilest wizard known to the wizarding world? At least life, if not death, I'm sure."

Titwilder went pale in the firelight, his perspiration not totally heat inspired. Hermione continued.

"I can turn this book over to Headmaster Dumbledore and he would see it reached the proper authorities. You can't control him and I'm certain he wouldn't appreciate your duplicity, Minister. Now, does the welfare of a few Death Eaters really mean that much to you? I don't plan to kill them—well not all of them, only a few that are guilty of murder. The murder of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The Ministry would have put them to death anyway, and at taxpayer expense. Surely you don't want to lose your position, reputation and freedom in one fell swoop simply because you were trying to cover your arse? I can understand it, but I'm not sure everyone else will."

Terrified, and not by his surroundings, but at the shame and scandal this witch, if that was what she truly was, could cause him, the wizard reconsidered his stance. He could lose everything.

"Perhaps I was hasty in my approach to your request, Miss Granger," he managed to get out.

"That's 'my Lady," Minister. You will continue to pay tribute to me," Hermione hissed at him.

His head nodded like a bobble doll.

"Of course, I'll pay it—" the Minister said, then he saw how narrowed Hermione's red eyes were. "I'll even double it."

"Very good," Hermione said, closing the ledger with a snap and depositing it back in her pocket. The flames died down immediately and the bedroom was undamaged, although the Minister was soaked in sweat. "Now, you will release my envoy immediately, with an apology."

"Immediately," the Minister promised, sitting up on the edge of his bed and wiping his soaked brow.

"I also plan to see if the medi-witch I assaulted will be willing to accept a monetary reparation for the injury, pain and suffering I inadvertently caused her during my escape from the hospital. If she accepts it, I expect the matter to be dropped."

The Minister had a feeling the medi-witch would accept the offer, if she wanted to keep drawing breath.

"I will also undergo an examination to prove my mental state is relatively sound," the witch added.

"That is acceptable, my Lady. I'm sure an understanding can be reached," Titwilder said ingratiatingly

"Good," Hermione said, looking at him a bit thoughtfully. She was still angry at what he had done to her envoy. "Your name is Odius Titwilder, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes it is, my Lady," the wizard said weakly.

"Hm. I think I'll leave you a little reminder so you'll know this wasn't a dream. Something that lives up to your name, until I'm cleared of all charges. Good-bye, Minister Odius."

The wizard watched as Hermione disappeared in a burst of sparks, his heart pounding. What did she mean she'd leave him something that lived up to his name?

Suddenly his wife popped up, wide awake, her nose wrinkled as she looked at him scathingly.

"Odius! What the hell is that stench? It smells like excrement! Did you foul yourself?" she hissed at him, drawing the quilt over her nose in disgust.

He blinked at her, unable to form a suitable answer as the stink slowly filled the room.

* * *

A/N: lol. Well, Hermione is persuasive at least. lol.


	7. Liath's Dilemma

**Chapter 7 ~ Liath's Dilemma**

"Confess your consort, hell spawn spirit of the Damned! Who has given you half of his soul? You cannot hide from the eyes of heaven! Confess, demon, before I send you back to the fiery depths which vomited you up!"

The murmur of prayers rose and fell in the background of the torture chamber situated beneath the monastery. Any religious order worth its salt had such an area beneath its foundations, literally and figuratively. The Order of the Immaculate Brotherhood was no exception.

Liath had underestimated the cheese and wine-making monks when he appeared at their door, despondent, disheveled, and apparently broken-hearted, stating he was tired of the ways of the world and sought solace from the evils of men. He should have won an award from the Orange British Academy for his acting. Liath was a demon of many dubious talents.

The Brotherhood turned no one away, and accepted the demon in, seeming willing to take him among their ranks. In fact, most were. Despite being religious men, belief in demons and even the Father of Lies himself had dropped to an all time low, due to lack of actual confrontations. Modern times allowed hell to operate in a more insidious matter. The media mostly handled the temptation of innocents to sin. And quite effectively.

Political arenas were another area souls could easily be picked up, the owners hardly even noticing. Most new politicians weren't aware if they were selling their souls to lobbyists or demons. Those who were aware really didn't see the difference. But back to poor, unfortunate Liath.

Still in human form, stretched on a rack and bloody from the scourge, Liath squinted up at the hooded figure snarling down at him. The stone walls flickered with torchlight, and a line of other hooded figures rested against the farthest wall, muttering prayers to keep his power from manifesting. He was not only bound by monks, but also by Heaven, which Liath found distinctly unfair since Heaven wouldn't accept him, and death wouldn't take him.

Apparently, someone up above had discovered Liath's plan and tipped off a certain monk named Optun Mooreshead. The others called him Brother Dickhead behind his back, which pissed him off. He was a sullen monk of forty-eight years, with graying hair and pinched, craggy features who actually hated the empty, tepid services and labors performed day after day.

What was the sense of making wine and cheese when there was such evil in the world? The call to prayer and the vows were simply lip service. Gone were the days of actively rooting out evil in every way possible. How he longed for the righteousness of the good old days, when the fear of hell was heavy on every soul, and the scourge freely lifted that weight without prejudice.

Now look at the world. Every lust and wickedness in men's hearts was freely indulged in. Sin was prevalent and the Father of Lies as strong as ever. But no one saw that. No one but him. He pored over old texts about dealing with the spirits of hell, how they operated, the insidious ways they stole or possessed men's souls. When he went to the village to drop off their product for distribution, people would shy away from his piercing gaze and make signs to protect themselves from his Eye of Evil. Not that they considered him evil, but a monk that could see the evil inside them. Everyone believed they had some evil inside them.

And when Optun, incensed by self-righteousness and drunk on wine, would rail to the brethren about the evil in the world and how they had to get out from behind the monastery walls and fight with all their heart and souls, the other monks would tell him to stick a cork in it.

But now, now he had proof that evil was real in the form of the creature tied down before him, covered in blood and sweat beneath the glistening firelight. Proof that the Father of Lies was in operation. True, Liath hadn't yet confessed his secret, but he would, or continue to suffer. Optun had been sent a vision of Liath in his full demon form, copulating with a woman as if she were a bitch in heat. The monk couldn't see her face, however, it was turned away from him. He only saw bushy, rather matted brown hair and that she was small.

Optun began to watch Liath closely and noticed the new monk would not touch the Holy water, regardless of being called to prayer or making devotions. And Liath was so accommodating, so willing to help, to extend himself to others, it was nauseating. No one was that good. Optun shared his vision with Cryptus, the head of the Order, who didn't believe him.

"You've consumed too much wine, Brother Optun. You need to repent," Cryptus said tiredly.

"I had a vision! Brother Liath will not touch holy water. Not for prayers, invocations or even devotions. You have to admit that is suspicious, Brother Cryptus! Evil is among us! At least observe him!"

To shut Optun up, Brother Cryptus did just that. He observed within a week, that Liath had not touched Holy water once. He called the monk into his quarters and sat him down. Optun and several other monks were hidden within the walls, watching through grates.

Of course, Liath was aware of them and had the power to protect himself if he chose to do so. But the demon didn't choose to do so. His soul had grown over the weeks as he applied himself in service to others. He strove to be kind and compassionate, and made some progress, especially when he entered the village and showed the children "magic" tricks and they gathered around him, pulling at his robes, laughing and smiling and begging for small pieces of cheese in his pockets. To fight and kill these monks would stain his soul and hamper his progress.

"Liath, is there something you need to tell me?" Cryptus asked the demon, his sharp blue eyes resting on him. Liath was the perfect monk, except for his aversion to holy water.

"No, Brother Cryptus. I do not need to tell you anything," the demon replied, knowing that the monk already knew his nature.

Cryptus nodded and pushed a small bowl of holy water over his desk toward the demon.

"Place your finger into the bowl, Brother," Cryptus said.

Optun tensed as Liath slowly raised his hand and stuck out an index finger. The demon lowered it into the clear liquid, which immediately begin to boil, steam rising from it as the pain tore through him. But he held it there, staring at Cryptus who was staring back at him in numb horror.

"Demon spawn!" Optun cried, bursting from behind the wall, a heavy club in his raised hand. Liath watched calmly as the monk ran toward him and brought the club down with a death blow, blood and brains bursting from the demon's skull.

Liath fell heavily to the floor, Optun standing over him, his chest rising and falling, bits of hair, flesh and bone sticking to the end of his club as blood slowly pooled around the fallen demon's head

Cryptus looked up at him, more horror in his eyes now as he looked at the dead monk.

"A demon who dies, Brother? I think—I think—perhaps—"

Cryptus fell silent, too horrified to voice the thought they may have killed an innocent man, despite what they witnessed. Maybe Brother Liath had only been touched by evil.

Optun stood there, staring down at Liath as the other monks gathered around him, their eyes rounded at what they had witnessed with the holy water, and at Optun's act of violence against another.

"You've killed, Optun, a grave sin . . ."

"It's no sin to kill hell spawn," Optun snarled, unrepentant. Then, Liath stirred, causing the others to back away as the great wound in his head filled in and he sat up in his blood-soaked robes, looking around him.

"There!" Optun shouted triumphantly. "There is your proof that evil walks among us. The beast will suffer a deadly head wound and be healed!"

Liath got to his feet.

"What have I done?" he asked Cryptus. "What have I done to be beset upon?"

"It's not what you've done, but what you are, hell spawn!" Optun cried, brandishing the club again. "You are a demon!"

"No, no longer. I have a soul. Demons have no souls. I am no longer of Hell. Be merciful and allow me to stay among you, to learn the ways of men and atone. Allow me the judgment given men so I am not left to walk the spaces between reward and punishment for all eternity, unacceptable to heaven, hell or death."

Liath took a shot. These were holy men. Holy men were supposed to be merciful. Cryptus looked uncomfortable as did the others. Optun looked around at them, seeing their weakness in the face of evil itself.

"They shall beg for mercy and there will be no mercy," Optun hissed, turning to Cryptus. "If he has a soul, it isn't complete or he would have been a man, and died. He only contains a partial soul, which means there is someone else out in the world who is incomplete with demonic powers, Cryptus. Someone incapable of human compassion, an abomination to both heaven and earth. Even now, he could be spreading evil throughout the world. Give the demon to me, that I may make him reveal who this person is, and track him down in the name of all that is holy! Then, I will send them both back to the Father of Lies!"

Faced with Liath's confession, and sadly lacking in the knowledge necessary to deal with the demon himself, Cryptus had no choice but to hand him over to Optun. Liath made no attempt to defend himself as the monks took hold of him and led him away.

"Brother Optun, he didn't try to defend himself," Cryptus said to the monk. "He didn't try to harm anyone. Are you certain he is truly evil?"

"He is only playing at good, Brother Cryptus. I have studied the ways of demons for more than twenty-five years in preparation for this day. They are all tricksters like their master. You all have put away such things, become mired in disbelief, thinking the times of true evil are over. But the world is full of evil. There are demons, witches and wizards throughout our world. Maybe now, you see it, and now we'll do more than make cheese. The demon is trying to generate a full soul, a foul and blasphemous thing indeed. That the vision came to me is proof I am the one to deal with this creature. Leave him to me."

And so, that is how Liath Greyman came to be under the lash of Optun Mooreshead.

"I have told you, hell will not accept me, Optun," Liath rasped. "And I cannot die until my soul is completed. Free me and I will serve the Order until my goal is accomplished. Then, I will gladly give myself to you to part from my mortal coil. My eternity will be established, and if it is my fate I will be relegated to hell for my manipulations."

Optun ripped the cowl from his head, his face contorted as he glared down at the demon

"Serve? You cannot fool me with your lies, demon! You will lie here and be questioned until you give me the information I desire, the name of the person who has given you half his soul and where he dwells!"

"You can't go where she dwells," Optun said tiredly.

"She? She? A woman? A witch! Yes, a witch! The whore you placed your unholy seed in . . . the one in the vision. What is her name?"

Optun groaned. Pronouns got him. Shit. He fell silent as Optun raged at him, spittle flying as he demanded more information.

"Heat the coals!" the monk snarled. "Maybe a bit of fire on his tongue will loosen it!"

* * *

A/N: Just a bit more drama. I have to take Tweet to the doctor this morning. Chi is very sick. So I just wrote this out. I'll get back to Glass ASAP. Thanks for reading.


	8. After Hermione's Little Visit

**Chapter 8 ~ After Hermione's Little Visit**

At the Daily Prophet, the printing presses were busily churning out newspapers for the next day. The headline read,

"Minister of Magic to Shortly Bring Death Eaters to Justice."

A wizard stood at the head of the press, watching the roll of thin, light parchment feed through the magical machine. It was inked several times, then cut and laid out according to page order. After that, the pages were folded in half, then the newspaper doubled over and transported to huge palettes. Another wizard bound them in stacks, making them ready for distribution. They would be magically sent to their destinations.

"I tell you what, John," the wizard at the head of the press called over the noise of the machine to the other employee. "This is real news, it is. Old Titwilder's going to be in office forever if he can pull this one off."

"Yer right 'bout tha', Bob. Goin' ta be a good day fer sellin', tha's fer shure. Better double the coun'."

Just as Bob was about to add another roll of parchment to the press, the door to the printing room flew open and several Aurors entered, with their wands drawn.

"By order of the Minister of Magic, this press is hereby shut down," one Auror said, pointing his wand at the printing press and stopping it.

"What's this? You can't stop the printing!" John cried.

"We can and we did. Now, leave the premises," the Auror ordered.

"We're not finished here. Does Mr. Cuffe know about this?" John demanded as the other Aurors walked over to the stacks of printed papers ready to go out.

"Oh, you're finished here, all right. Now, get moving before we lock both of you up for obstruction of justice," the wizard growled.

"You can't do that!" John hissed.

The Auror looked at him stonily. Bob walked up to his co-worker.

"I thin' he can, mate. Les' jes' go," he said, catching John by the arm. The wizard reluctantly let him lead him away.

The Auror closed and warded the door, then looked at the rest of his group.

"All right. Destroy every paper, every single one. The Minister doesn't want a single one released to the public," he directed.

They went to work.

* * *

Rita Skeeter was in her bed sound asleep when her bedroom door burst open. She woke up immediately screamed when she saw three blurry figures enter and quickly pulled her wand from under her pillow, pointing it at the intruders.

"Expelliarmus," a male voice hissed, and her wand flew out of her hand.

"What do you want?" Rita cried as one of the men turned up the torches. Rita grabbed her bejeweled glasses off the nightstand and put them on as the Aurors recoiled.

Her hard curls were bound up in a kerchief and she had some kind of sickly green mask caked on her face so she looked a bit like an oddly colored minstrel, the areas around her eyes and mouth still flesh colored.

"Rita Skeeter?" one Auror croaked.

Rita scowled, which only made her even more unappealing, some of the mask cracking.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, uninvited?" she demanded.

"We're here by order of the Minister of Magic," the Auror replied. "We have instructions to Obliviate the interview you had with him yesterday. It will not be printed or made public."

"But—but why? And forced Obliviation is illegal! I know my rights!" Rita declared.

"Not when it comes to national security, Miss Skeeter. Obliviation can be used on individuals when sensitive information has to be—protected from the public."

"Humph. It's sounds to me as if the Minister has gotten into some hot water and is trying to protect himself," Rita grumbled. "But—the people have a right to know! Voldemort is dead and the Death Eaters are going to be brought to justice! That interview is news!"

The Auror pointed his wand at the witch.

"Not anymore," he said. "Obliviate!"

* * *

Early the next day, Barnabas Cuffe shook his finger directly in Odius' face. He had made a beeline for the Ministry the moment he received complaints that the Prophet hadn't been delivered. He demanded to see the minister immediately. He had been ushered straight to his office.

"Odius! You had no right—no bloody right to enter the premises of the Prophet and shut down my press!" he snarled at him. "That's outright censorship! That's what it is!"

"Calm down, Barnabas," Titwilder said. He stunk of cologne he had liberally applied in an attempt to cover up the lingering odor of shit. It wasn't working.

Barnabas gagged.

"What is that horrid smell? Is that you?" he demanded, pulling a kerchief out of his inner robes pocket and covering his nose with it.

"Yes, it's me, and it's a long story. A spell that went wrong, all right? Barnabas, I had to kill that story. You will not print a word of that interview. The situation has changed. You will give me your word that what I tell you will not leave this office and will not appear in print in your newspaper, Barnabas, or I will have you arrested and the Prophet closed down indefinitely!"

Barnabas stared at Titwilder. Never in the history of the Daily Prophet had a Minister of Magic threatened the newspaper so directly. There had been a few confrontations, but nothing of this magnitude. Certainly no threat to have him locked up. He sat down, realizing whatever the situation was, it had to be serious.

"You have my word," he said through the kerchief.

Without divulging the true nature of his dilemma, Odius weaved a tale of intrigue and ongoing investigations that could be severely curtailed if any information were made public through the Prophet at this time.

"I promise to give you another story, Barnabas, as soon as we discover Miss Granger's motives. I have a feeling they are benign and reparative and I don't want to publish bad press about her. She's—she's going to be an ally."

"But yesterday, she was little more than a criminal," Barnabas said, his eyes narrowed.

He smelled more than the minister here, that was for certain.

"I spoke too hastily. I met with Miss Granger, and we came to an understanding. That's all I can say on the matter. It is imperative that NOTHING is said about this," the minister reiterated.

"The Death Eaters will say something," Barnabas told him.

"It will be hearsay until it is corroborated by the media," Odius responded. "If it gets too out of hand, I will simply issue a statement saying we are investigating the matter. That will give us a little time."

Barnabas studied him.

"All right. I've given you my word not to publish the interview, Odius, but don't you ever send your Aurors to my newspaper again. Do you understand me? Or you'll find yourself in the midst of a media war and I will make it my business to ruin your re-election campaign, even if I have to print the newspapers bootleg out of my home," the editor growled.

Both men looked at each other with narrowed eyes.

Odius didn't like being threatened, but the Prophet was a powerful newspaper. He didn't want to tangle with Cuffe. He could get nasty in print.

"Next time, you will be contacted first. It's just that the hour was rather late," he assured Barnabas tightly

"I don't care how late it is. That's my paper you're fucking with."

Barnabas stood up.

"And for gods' sakes, man, take a bath!" he hissed, hurrying from the office.

Titwilder scowled after him for a moment, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

As far as Hermione went, his hands were tied, and tied well. All he could do now was wait to see what the Dark Lady would do or demand next.

* * *

Snape awoke to find a small chest of Galleons on his nightstand, along with written instructions by Hermione. He was to immediately go find the medi-witch she had injured and give her the money for reparations.

He was not to fail. That part looked as if it had been written in blood. Snape frowned.

He had classes to teach today, but had a feeling Hermione cared nothing about that. He knew she wouldn't be pleased if he didn't do as she asked immediately, and a displeased Dark Lady might be ten times worse than a displeased Dark Lord. He wasn't about to risk that. As soon as he dressed, he went to see Albus.

* * *

"It appears Hermione is more demanding than Voldemort," Albus said with a frown after Snape told him of Hermione's instructions. "Even he didn't interfere with your teaching schedule."

Snape nodded.

"Yes, but my relationship with him was supposed to be clandestine, so he worked around my schedule so we wouldn't be discovered. Miss Granger doesn't have that complication. She is quite open about herself and my role, Albus. I fear if I don't do as she asks, the punishment will be just as bad or even worse than with Voldemort. She is merciless."

Snape then recounted the take of Liath Greyman's tutelage of Hermione. The Headmaster was horrified.

"A demon? She gave a portion of her soul to a demon, Severus?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Yes. But in time, her soul will regenerate. However, when that occurs she will lose her demonic powers and become an ordinary witch again," the Potions master said.

"Hermione Granger is a lot of things, Severus, but ordinary has never been one of them," Albus said softly.

"I agree. But her soul will only regenerate with positive reinforcement, feelings of kindness, empathy and—love. It's clear she plans to avoid feeling these emotions for some time. I believe that is why she didn't come to see you, Headmaster. The emotion wouldn't be conducive to keeping her powers."

Albus nodded.

"So, she has to maintain wickedness to be effective. Interesting. Of course, Severus, it will be in our best interest to help her along in the process of regaining her humanity. Although Voldemort is gone, and Hermione will not be targeting Muggle-borns or trying to take over our society, we will all be much safer if she is restored. Evil can become addicting and her immersion in it could have grievous results."

Snape blinked at Albus, his stomach tightening. He knew what was coming next.

"Severus, you're going to have to be the one to help her come back to us. You're going to have to make her feel those things that will expand her soul," the Headmaster said.

"Me? Me, Albus? Surely you can't be serious. I'm naturally lacking in those areas, and I have a full soul," Snape said softly. "I've never inspired kindness in anyone."

"You're just going to have to work on it a bit, old man. I have complete faith in you," Albus said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Snape sighed. He was in for it, and knew it.

"Very well. But this is just as dangerous as dealing with Voldemort. It could be Miss Granger will destroy me if I elicit anything positive in her," Snape said bitterly.

"I don't believe that will be the case. Hermione has already shown that you will have preferential treatment, Severus. I imagine that added a little something to her soul. She may not act as quickly or deal as harshly with you as she would anyone else. She said you had suffered enough," the Headmaster responded.

"But she's a woman. Women are terribly fickle at times," Snape said.

"Follow your instincts. Use your powers of observation. You'll know when to push forward and when to withdraw. It's ingrained in you."

_Like my scars of service_, Snape thought, frowning slightly. Then he stood up.

"I must go, Headmaster. Please don't use Professor Binns for my substitute. He leaves ectoplasm all over my good swivel chair, and it's the devil to remove," he said.

"I won't, Severus. I was thinking Sybill could use a bit of time away from the North Tower," was Albus' response.

Snape let out an aggravated sound. Sybill Trelawney? Good gods, she was almost as bad as Binns. Well, maybe she'd attempt to brew something and blow herself up. One could always hope.

"Very well, Headmaster. First I'm going to go to the Ministry library and look up the name of the medi-witch and find her address or place of employment."

"Very good, Severus. Good luck, my boy."

With that, Snape exited Albus' office.

"There goes a brave wizard," Albus said softly as the door closed.

* * *

A/N: Well, I started on this again, but it was difficult going. This is the first HG/SS I've written since moving into my new apartment. It took a lot of effort and I felt museless. Still, I had to do it. I hope you found it interesting. Thanks for reading.


	9. Reparations

**Chapter 9 ~ Reparations**

Janet Mackery rolled over in her bed and pulled the pillow over her head as she heard knocking. She groaned to herself. Who could it be at this hour? She opened one bleary brown eye and looked at the clock. It was eleven-fifteen in the morning. She'd just made it in from work at nine and it had been a busy night shift at St. Mungos.

The knocking continued.

"All right. All right," the thirty-five-year-old witch said tiredly as if whoever was outside her door could hear her clearly. She slid out of bed, put on her robe and slippers, pocketed her wand from off the nightstand, then walked into the bathroom to splash a bit of water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror and patted down her kinky black sleep hair so as to look more presentable. Her brown skin looked a bit dry. She wasn't moisturizing enough. The heavy knocking continued.

"All right," she said again, padding down the hallway and to the front door. She peered out the little peephole, then jerked her head back.

Who the hell was that? She looked back out the hole at the man who stood on her doorstep holding a small chest. His hair was black, long and lank, and he was as pale as a fish's belly. His nose was hooked, and his cruelly cast mouth was held in a thin unpleasant line. He didn't look at all safe.

"Yes?" she called loudly through the door, unwilling to open it as she took out her wand.

Is this the residence of Miss Janet Mackery?" Snape asked, staring at the peephole.

"What do you want with Janet Mackery?" Janet asked, not wanting to identify herself before knowing what this visit was about.

"I represent Hermione Granger. She is a former patient of St. Mungos who had a bit of an altercation with Miss Mackery. She would like to make reparations. Are you Miss Mackery?" Snape inquired.

Janet frowned slightly, still peering through the peephole.

"What kind of reparations?" the black witch asked.

In answer, Snape opened the chest, which was brimming over with Galleons. Janet's eyes widened and she immediately opened the door, looking at the money and not taking in Snape at all.

"What do I have to do?" she asked him in a hollow voice, the gold of the Galleons reflected in her hungry brown eyes.

"Just forgive her, Miss Mackery. She wasn't in a good state of mind at the time she attacked you. It wasn't malice but desperation that drove Miss Granger to render you unconscious and steal your clothing," Snape said softly. "By paying you restitution, it is Miss Granger's hope that you will drop the charges against her. She would like to return to wizarding society with a clean record."

Janet now looked up at him, the light in her eyes going out.

"And what is your name?" she asked him.

"Severus Snape. I am Miss Granger's envoy," he told her.

Janet looked him over.

"Envoy? She must be very important to have an envoy. I thought you might be her solicitor," the witch said.

"No. I'm not."

Janet looked thoughtful.

"You know, Mr. Snape, I never held any ill-will toward that young lady," Janet said softly. "She had gone through so much and they kept her so medicated. I used to go into her room at night and brush her hair, just so she'd feel some human contact. Some kindness. No one came to see her. Albus Dumbledore did come in the beginning, but seeing her that way was so painful that he just couldn't return. There was a family of redheads, but they stopped coming, too. She was so alone. Every night she'd whisper 'Harry, Ron, Harry, Ron,' over and over. I'd do my rounds and then come sit with her. I'd give her the potions as directed, to keep her calm. She was calm all right. Like a zombie."

Janet blinked, her eyes filling as Snape listened. Obviously, the medi-witch needed to talk.

"They kept her hands and feet bound, and I complained to the healers that the bonds were too tight. The ropes were bruising her wrists and ankles, but they said they had to be that way. One morning, before I got off work and was bringing her breakfast, I noticed that her arms and legs around the ropes were purple from lack of circulation. So I left the tray on the cart and loosened them. I didn't care what the healers said, that was no way to treat another human being. And then, it all happened so quickly. I woke up on the floor in only my bra and knickers and called for help. But I never blamed her, Mr. Snape. She only wanted out and I couldn't blame her, mad or not. I didn't press the charges. The hospital did because I had been injured and in order for my insurance to kick in, someone had to be held responsible. She didn't try to kill me. She just wanted to get away and I let her escape because I didn't do my duty like I should have. I've always felt terrible about that. No one knew what had happened to her. I thought—I thought she might have harmed herself. I'm glad that she's alive and apparently in better health. I do forgive her. I forgave her that very same day. I don't deserve reparation. I put her in danger with my actions. I should have called the healers to deal with her lack of circulation. I just thought they wouldn't have done anything."

Hermione was watching the exchange through a frozen sheet of fire, listening. Her nostrils flared as the medi-witch selflessly took the blame upon herself.

"Fuck her reticence! Make her sign the paper and take the damn money!" she hissed.

Snape started. He heard Hermione's voice clearly and she sounded angry. Apparently, Miss Mackery's demeanor was having a negative effect on the Dark Lady. And that could be dangerous.

"Miss Mackery, your selflessness is admirable, but Miss Granger feels you deserve this money. She also needs you to sign off on the criminal charges against her. If the insurance company wishes to pursue it further, then they can file their own complaint with the courts, which would make it a civil situation. For now, only your forgiveness for the physical assault matters."

Snape reached into his inner pocket and produced a parchment, handing it to the witch. It was a statement saying that she had no ill will toward Hermione Granger and wished to forget about the entire matter.

"You only have to sign this, and the Galleons are yours," he said softly as she looked it over. "Then it will be taken to the Ministry and put on record."

"I'll sign it without accepting the Galleons," Janet said quietly, walking back into the house to get a pen. Snape stood on the doorstep, waiting.

"NO!" Hermione's voice growled in his ear. "She MUST take the money, Severus! If she doesn't, I'll destroy her where she stands. I swear I will!"

Snape blinked several times as Janet returned with the signed paper, offering it to him.

"Miss Mackery," he said in a low, intense voice. "Listen to me, and listen well. If you want to keep breathing, you will take this money immediately."

"What? What are you talking about?" Janet demanded, frowning at him now.

"I cannot give you all the details, but I assure you that if you don't take these Galleons, your life will be worth nothing. Please."

Janet stared up at Snape and saw the worry and fear in his eyes. Her heart started to beat quickly. She instinctually knew this unpleasant looking wizard wasn't lying. Her eyes shifted about to see if someone had a bead on her, then she looked back at Snape.

"All right. But like I said, I don't deserve it," the witch said, taking the chest from Snape, who nearly slumped with relief. He was sure that Janet's death would have been a very nasty, painful one.

"Take it and spend it all on something frivolous, then, Miss Mackery," Snape said, taking the parchment from her and glancing at her signature.

"I suppose I could give it to charity," she said softly.

"WHAT?" Hermione snarled in Snape's mind.

"NO!" Snape shouted at Janet, who jumped, startled.

"No," he said in a softer voice. "You have to use it yourself, or—or something extremely unpleasant and permanent will happen to you. Do you understand me? And don't attempt to clandestinely give the money away after I leave. As I said, you will die, Miss Mackery. It will be found out, and you will die."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Suffice it to say, Miss Mackery, Hell has a lot to do with it. Now, good day."

Snape turned and Disapparated, leaving the witch standing in the door with wide, frightened eyes. She looked down at the chest of Galleons, then slowly closed it. She looked around again, then stepped back into the house, closing the door behind her.

Hermione was glowering on her throne. Janet had shown such thoughtfulness. Such a good heart towards her attacker after what she had done to her. Janet Mackery was truly a good human being and was genuinely concerned about her. She watched as Janet walked into her bedroom and set the chest down on her dresser. Hermione could feel a sense of appreciation growing in her chest—

"NO!" she snarled, thrusting her hand toward Janet's image. The medi-witch screamed as she was covered in painful welts. Hermione banished the fire, relieved of her feelings of good will.

"That's much better," she breathed.

* * *

Snape brought the signed parchment to the Ministry and personally gave it to the minister himself, his large nose wrinkling at the stench in his office. It smelled as if something had died in there and someone had unsuccessfully attempted to cover the smell with cologne.

"I will have this taken care of immediately, Mr. Snape," Titwilder said. "Be sure to tell your Dark Lady that I did just ask she asked. Her name will be cleared by this afternoon."

"Tell him I want my name cleared publicly. Post it in the Prophet," Hermione hissed to Snape. She was observing him via the ring now. "The evening edition."

"Ah, the Lady would like this decision to be posted in the Prophet this afternoon," Snape informed him.

Titwilder spluttered. He was still on Barnabas' bad side for stopping the presses last night.

"This evening's Prophet? It might be rather late for that," the minister said. "I could probably have it inserted in tomorrow morning's edition—"

Suddenly, Titwilder's entire office burst into flames around him, fierce heat washing over him. Snape didn't seem to notice the fire all around him as he stood looking at the wizard. He did notice, however, the look of terror on the minister's face and the perspiration that suddenly beaded his forehead.

"ALL RIGHT!" he screamed, startling Snape as the flames died down.

"All right. It will be in the Prophet's evening edition," Titwilder said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his forehead.

Snape hadn't been privy to the inferno scene, but he was relatively sure Hermione had something to do with the minister's change of tone.

"Very good, minister. I'm sure she will be pleased," Snape said, departing the office and the stench.

He really needed to open some windows and air the place out.

* * *

Hermione sat on the throne, lazily watching a shirtless Draco scrub the blood off the throne room walls the Muggle way, his strong back flexing. He leaned down and dipped the scrub brush into the bucket, then returned to the wall.

Hermione flicked a finger toward the bucket, which rose into the air and drifted over the unsuspecting wizard's head. Hermione whirled her finger and the bucket tipped, drenching Draco with its contents, leaving him wet and glistening. He spun around angrily, snarling at Hermione, who looked back at him with amusement.

"I like you wet and dirty, Draco," she said softly as he swelled up visibly, wiping the dirty water from his face. But he didn't dare say anything.

"Go get some more water," Hermione hissed at him. She watched as he grabbed the bucket and stalked from the throne room, his wet jeans clinging to his tight bottom. After he exited, she could feel Snape trying to contact her. She summoned the wizard and he appeared in front of her, bowing low.

"So, I'm cleared now," she said to the dark wizard.

"Yes, my Lady," he replied.

"Good work. Now, tonight I will be summoning the Death Eaters for a little show," she told the Potions master.

"A show, my Lady?"

"Yes. Some entertainment that you will all find quite interesting," Hermione informed him, her eyes starting to glow redly.

"It will have chills, thrills and five stars," she continued.

"A quality show, then?"

"Oh yes. But the five stars aren't a rating, Severus, they're going to be people. Five people in the leading roles," Hermione said, slapping her wand in her palm. "Those five will be Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Bellatrix LeStrange, Antonin Dolohov and Walden Macnair."

Snape simply stared at her. Those were the five Death Eaters responsible for Harry and Ron's deaths.

"You won't want to miss this," Hermione added with a sinister smile.

"Believe me."

* * *

A/N: Another chappie. Bad, bad Hermione. But such FUN to write. Lol. Thanks for reading.


	10. A Quest

**Chapter 10 ~ A Quest**

In the bowels of the monastery, Liath was screaming as a vat of holy water boiled around his submerged naked body. His torturer, Optun Mooreshead had come up with this torment after nothing else worked. He had cut off fingers, toes, ripped out the demon's tongue, and even hacked off an entire hand, but the appendages grew back very quickly. He now had a collection of relics from the creature and kept them in a leather bag. They might prove useful.

"Who is she? Where is she, Hellspawn?" Optun yelled at the suffering demon. "Tell me and I will remove you from the vat!"

The monk then walked over to the wheel and turned it, so Liath's body was lifted out of the water and dangled above it, the demon breathing heavily, his wrists and ankles bound together. His chin dropped to his chest.

"Tell me her name, you cursed thing!" Optun hissed at him.

Liath looked at him, defeat in his multicolored eyes.

"Her name is—is Hermione Granger," he groaned.

"Where is her cursed abode?" Optun demanded.

"She lives in Britain."

"Britain? Britain is a large area. What part of Britain? You must be more specific!"

"England. Wizarding England," Liath replied thickly.

Optun stared at the creature.

"There are wizards in England?" the monk asked, amazed.

"And witches."

"Minions of Evil!" the monk breathed. "How can I find this place? I know you know how!"

Liath didn't answer him at first, and the monk turned the wheel, beginning to lower him back into the vat.

"Wait! Wait!" Liath implored him. The monk stopped.

"How do I find this wizarding England?" Optun demanded.

"My hand. The one you chopped off. Take it out of the bag," Liath said softly.

Optun left the wheel and walked over to a long table that held instruments of torture. The leather bag was there, pulled tightly closed with a drawstring. Optun opened the bag, looked inside it and pulled out Liath's dismembered body part. He stared at the gray, dead thing, then turned to the demon.

"How will this help me?" he asked.

"It retains a remnant of the witch's soul," the demon replied. "Hold it by the wrist straight in front of you and ask it to show you where Hermione Granger is."

Optun held the hand out, then said, "Where is that cursed woman?"

The hand didn't respond at first, then Optun felt it turn him toward the right. Then all but one of the fingers slowly curled under, the index finger pointing toward the door that led out of the dungeons.

"It will point the way," Liath said, defeat in his voice. "And it will get you through any magical areas, because it retains her magical signature. What most humans don't see, you will."

Optun smiled at the hand, then caressed the foul thing.

"Yes. This will prove to be quite helpful to me, Hellspawn," he said, replacing the hand in the bag, then walking back to the wheel. "You have been helpful as well—but it took too long to loosen your tongue. Here is your reward."

Liath screamed as the monk lowered him back into the holy water, then left the dungeons.

* * *

"A quest, Optun?" Brother Cryptus repeated incredulously.

"A holy quest to find that abomination Liath has let loose on the world, Brother Cryptus," Optun replied, a crazed look in his eyes as he sat across from his fellow monk. He had a long staff in one hand, and the top of it was covered with a small burlap sack.

"How can you hope to find the woman?" Cryptus asked. "The world is a very large place."

"Witch, not woman. She's a witch. One of many, I believe. The demon revealed she lives in wizarding England, a foul, hidden place no doubt ruled by the Father of Lies. I have the means to enter it and mean to do it."

Optun pulled the sack off the top of his staff, revealing Liath's gray, disembodied hand. It had been attached to the staff with nails and leather bindings. Cryptus recoiled.

"What is that, Optun?"

"The demon's hand. It points the way," Optun breathed, willing it to do so. He didn't have to speak. The hand recognized him as its master. The fingers curled and the staff swerved toward the door. The hand pointed at it.

"A thing of evil," Cryptus breathed.

"It is born of evil, but will be used for good," Optun replied, pulling the burlap sack back over the hand.

"Where is Liath?" Cryptus asked, concerned for the demon.

"He is in the dungeons. Leave him there," Optun replied. "If you release him, he may flee. Leave him in torment. That is all his kind deserves. Eternal torment."

Cryptus frowned at him.

"Brother Optun, I placed Liath in your charge because you wanted information from him. You've gained that information. There is no need to continually make him suffer. We are monks, not the Inquisition."

"If I could kill him, I would. He doesn't deserve to exist. Leave him there, brother."

"You overstep your bounds, Optun. You are not the leader of this sect, I am. And I will not torture another living being. Liath's only sin is that he is what he is. He has done nothing to deserve this treatment."

"He deserves it because of what he is! Hellspawn. A minion of the enemy. He is Blasphemy made flesh!"

"He is a living creature with a mind, and now, a soul, Optun. You are no longer responsible for him! Depart the monastery and go on your 'quest!'"

Optun looked at Cryptus with an expression of abject hatred for a moment.

"I will, and I will not return until I have destroyed this Hermione Granger! If you coddle this demon, Cryptus, you will have gone against heaven itself! Keep that in mind."

Optun rose, Cryptus' eyes on him consideringly.

"You know, Optun, some of the most grievous sins ever committed have been done by those who believed they knew heaven's will," he said softly. "Mercy and humility are the gifts we are to share."

Optun snorted.

"I am a soldier for good. I was born for it. You worry about mercy and humility. I am the sword of Benevolence, and I mean to cut down the evil in our world. Farewell, Brother Cryptus."

With that, Optun left the office, collected some traveling money and started out on his quest to find the Dark Lady.

Brother Cryptus quickly descended the stairs leading to the dungeons. He heard Liath's unearthly screams long before he reached him. The water around him was bubbling and steaming, the demon twisting in his bonds in agony as he suffered.

"My God," Cryptus breathed, making a sign, then running to the wheel and turning it to lift the demon out of the water. Liath stopped screaming, breathing heavily, water rolling down his nude body, still burning him, but not as much as full immersion.

Brother Cryptus pulled the heavy vat out of the way, then gently lowered Liath to the floor, pulling off his robe and using it to dry him. Liath might be a demon but he looked like a man, and Cryptus responded to him as if he were one. He had a soul after all.

"Your torment is over, Liath. Optun has departed. You are welcome to stay with us, or to leave if you wish. Your secret is safe. You are on the path of good. For a demon to turn from evil is a marvelous thing. We will help you if you accept our help," the monk said as he untied his hands and feet.

Liath looked up at him gratefully.

"Thank you," he rasped, his voice nearly gone from all the screaming.

"You are welcome, Brother Liath."

* * *

"Hermione intends to kill five Death Eaters, Severus?" Albus asked him, his brow creased.

Snape, who was sitting in the headmaster's office, nodded somberly.

"Yes, to avenge Potter's and Weasley's deaths," the Potions master replied.

"This is a terrible thing. They should be tried," Albus said.

"Miss Granger has set herself up as judge, jury and executioner, Albus, much like Voldemort did when he reigned. She feels she has the same authority."

Albus drummed his fingers on the desktop thoughtfully, then looked up at Snape and started to say something. Snape held up one pale hand to stop him.

"Don't say it, Albus. I can't do it. I can't stop her and I won't attempt to do it. You're already asking me to do something that is nearly impossible in trying to elicit the growth of her soul. I am not going to put myself between the Dark Lady and her victims. It was likely that they would have received death sentences anyway if they had been tried. I'm not about to risk my own life to delay the inevitable. I'm sorry."

Albus sighed. He really did put Snape into one difficult situation. He was a very capable wizard, but he couldn't work miracles. Just magic.

"This will make her a murderer," Albus said softly.

"A murderer of murderers. It balances out. I saw you the day Potter and Weasley were killed, Headmaster. You had death in your eyes. If you could have apprehended their killers, you wouldn't have shown any mercy. Admit it, at least to yourself, if not me," Snape said, his eyes seeming to look inside the old wizard.

Albus' eyes glistened. Yes, he did have revenge in his heart that day, and for weeks afterward. He sent the Order far and wide looking for the Death Eaters, but they were well hidden. The orders were to bring them to Albus, alive.

They wouldn't have remained so. It was only when Hermione went mad that the old wizard realized the depth of his own hatred and pulled back from it. But Hermione hadn't pulled back. She dwelled in her hatred and used it to make herself more powerful and exact her revenge on Voldemort and his followers. For a moment, he was able to put himself in Hermione's shoes and understood her anger.

"Be sure to bring me a Pensieve of the deaths, Severus," he said heavily.

"I will, Albus."

* * *

Hermione summoned her Death Eaters at precisely six o'clock. Snape arrived first, summoned by a gentle pulse. But, the Death Eaters that followed were crying out in pain as they arrived, clutching their marks and complaining in low voices that they hurt even worse than when Voldemort summoned them.

Apparently, Hermione could make the marks painful if she chose. Draco had also been spared the scorching pain of her summons, simply because he was already there. At least she allowed him to wear robes. Most of the time he was half-naked.

Hermione stared at the Death Eaters with distaste as they milled around, wearing their half masks.

"Take off those blasted masks!" she snarled at them.

They quickly obliged her. She straightened in her throne.

"Tonight, there's to be a bit of entertainment," she said, "and it will feature five Death Eaters of my choosing. Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Bellatrix LeStrange, Antonin Dolohov and Walden Macnair, come forward."

The Death Eaters all looked around. No one stirred.

"I know you're here. Come forward," Hermione hissed. "Don't make me pull you forward myself."

There was movement in the crowd as the five Death Eaters slowly moved through their comrades and emerged to stand in front of Hermione. She stared at them, her eyes reddening.

Bellatrix swallowed, knowing why they were called forward.

"We—we're were only following orders, my Lady," she said.

Hermione stared at her, then suddenly made a wavy motion with her hand. A large upholstery needle threaded with thick thread appeared in front of Bellatrix, then thrust itself in and out of her lips as the witch tried to scream, blood pouring down her chin as her mouth was painfully sewn shut.

"You will speak when spoken to," Hermione hissed as the needle tightened and tied off the stitches. It disappeared.

Snape shook his head slightly at the still bleeding witch.

This was not going to be pretty.

* * *

A/N: Ouch! :::shudder::: Thanks for reading.


	11. Revenge

**Chapter 11 ~ Revenge**

"AVADA KEDARVRA!"

Walden Macnair blasted Hermione with the Killing curse while she was distracted by Bellatrix. The dread green light covered her and the throne, Macnair wearing a victorious snarl as he held the hex on her. The Death Eaters around him began to cheer, egging him on. Hermione's hair and robes fluttered under the attack and she slumped, which made the cheering louder.

Snape shook his head again.

Panting, Macnair stopped the spell and turned to face the others, who now applauded him.

"Some Dark Lady," the wizard sneered at the rest of his applauding comrades. "That was almost too easy."

The applause suddenly weakened, then stopped, everyone looking past Macnair with horror on their faces. Macnair turned around to see Hermione conscious on the throne, her eyes red and narrowed and face twisted with malice.

"It was too easy, Macnair," she said softly.

Whispers of "she survived the Killing Curse!" circulated around the room in tentative whispers. Hermione Granger couldn't be an ordinary witch. No one survived the curse. Except Harry Potter, and that was old news.

Suddenly, Macnair stiffened, his limbs locking tightly against his body as if he were bound by invisible ropes. A tall guillotine appeared in front of the throne. The blade was rusty and bloodstained. Macnair seemed to be dragged toward it by unseen hands.

"NO!" he cried, attempting to struggle as he was forced to his knees and his neck placed in the scoop. "No! No!"

"I know an axe would be more in line with your history as an executioner, Macnair. As I remember, you took great joy in your work. I witnessed it once, when you slaughtered Buckbeak, the Hippogriff. But, that had quite a happy ending. This—

Suddenly the blade released, sliding down the frame and severing the wizard's head from his body, blood shooting out of the opening in a gory spray, far-reaching spray. Macnair's head rolled to the foot of Hermione's throne, the eyes glazed and twisted mouth still moving.

"—won't," Hermione finished with a wicked smile. "At least not for you. Personally, I'm overjoyed."

The guillotine disappeared, as did the lower part of Macnair's body. Then Hermione's red eyes turned on her Death Eaters, who had been applauding her assumed death. The throne room suddenly increased in size, and two goalposts appeared at either end of it.

"With the exception of Severus Snape and the remaining stars of the show, I want the rest of you to form two teams. I know they will be larger than usual, but that will make the game play more exciting. Whichever team kicks Macnair's head through the goal first, will be spared indescribable pain."

The Death Eaters looked at Hermione, then quickly separated. Hermione attached a white square on one set of Death Eaters, then a red square on the other so the teams could be identified.

"Now—GO!" Hermione hissed and watched as the Death Eaters desperately ran toward her throne and Macnair's head. There was cursing, grappling and frenzied kicking as it was kicked around the throne room desperately. Hermione laughed throughout at the thick meaty sound of boots and shoes meeting flesh. One of the eyeballs was detached from the socket, whipping about the ground at each impact before being stepped on and crushed. Several teeth were missing as well, and the rest of the face was bruised and misshapen as the competitors ran back and forth, shoving each other out of the way, the head rolling before them.

After about twenty minutes of fighting, shoving and nearly destroying the head, which now had gray matter leaking out of it, the red team finally got it through the white goal.

Hermione applauded.

"Now, that's entertainment," she said. Then the white team let out a terrible cry and dropped to the ground, each Death Eater howling and shuddering in pain. This went on for about thirty seconds before ceasing.

"Now, you'll withhold your applause for anything other than the remaining stars," Hermione told the chastised group as they staggered to their feet. Suddenly, the red team dropped, howling.

"You won, but you still applauded," Hermione hissed at the writhing mass. "So much for fealty. Now, get up!"

Snape decided then and there that in essence, Hermione Granger had the capacity to be even more of a despot than Voldemort, who usually had kept his word to the Death Eaters as a group once given. It was with the individual promises he was found lacking.

Hermione didn't seem to care whether she kept her word or not to the Death Eaters. It could be her continued feelings of malice toward the people she now ruled, or it could just be her demonic nature of the trickster showing through.

"Form a loose circle around the remaining four stars," Hermione ordered. The Death Eaters quickly obeyed her. Suddenly the ground Alecto, Amycus, Bellatrix and Dolohov stood on began to sink, the startled Death Eaters backing away further. A pit formed and fires flared up around the perimeter as Hermione left her throne and walked to the edge of the pit, looking down at the four wizards.

"You killed my best friends," she said, her voice ringing with power. "And defiled their bodies. You didn't even face them honestly, but ambushed them like the cowards you are. They didn't deserve to die that way, Avada'd from behind. Then, not satisfied, you spit, kicked and pissed on them—"

Hermione's eyes shifted around the circle of Death Eaters.

"Urinate on them!" she snarled. "Every male here with the exception of Snape! Now! If it isn't whipped out, gentlemen, it will be sliced off and fed to you! Now, start pissing!"

As their comrades pulled their cocks free of their robes, the three trapped Death Eaters whipped out their wands to protect themselves, only to find they wouldn't work. Piss rained down on them from every side, an abnormal amount of piss, stream upon stream, enhanced by Hermione's power.

"How does it feel?" she hissed as the warm liquid soaked them.

They attempted to hide their faces in their robes sleeves but the urine soaked through, forming puddles around their feet, and still it kept coming. Bellatrix tried to gag, then vomited, some spewing through her nose. She had to swallow the rest of the bile back down because of her sealed lips.

Finally the onslaught stopped and the Death Eaters adjusted themselves, faces twisted in disgust and horror.

"Now, I'm going to give you the chance you didn't give Harry and Ron. Your wands will work now, but I have disabled them from being able to execute Unforgivables. You will fight until one is left standing."

Bellatrix looked up at Hermione. She couldn't cast spells with her mouth sewn shut. Hermione flicked a finger at her and the stitches were ripped out painfully, leaving her lips ragged and bleeding.

"Now, fight!" Hermione hissed.

Bellatrix immediately cast a Protego spell around herself, because Alecto and Amycus went for her first. It effectively blocked their attacks. Then Amycus blasted Dolohov into the flames of the perimeter, the wizard screaming as he was burned and clamoring out of the fire desperately. But it was hellfire and clung to his skin, charring it as it worked its way inside his body, his organs bursting from the heat. Smoke and the stench of cooked wizard filled the pit.

Taking advantage of the distraction Bellatrix slashed at Alecto viciously.

"Sectumsempra!" she cried in a garbled voice because of her damaged lips. Blood spurted from Alecto's throat and she fell in a pool of blood.

"Alecto!" Amycus cried, charging Bellatrix. "You killed my sister, you bitch!"

He fired a blast at her, but Bella blocked it, firing back at him. They began to duel in earnest, blocking and hexing madly, neither making headway.

"This is taking too long," Hermione said, then made a motion with her hands and three demon dogs appeared in the pit, made of red hot stone, mouths dripping white hot lava. They charged the witch and wizard.

"No!" Alecto cried as one latched on to his arm, and the other two bit into his legs. He screamed in agony as they began to shake him viciously, pulling his limbs askew, the bones snapping before he was torn apart, blood flying everywhere.

Only Bella was left as the creatures devoured the wizard's body greedily, crunching through bone and skull, lapping up the blood. Hermione watched dispassionately for a moment, then her eyes turned toward the last one standing.

Suddenly Bellatrix let out a shriek as giant pike emerged from the ground beneath her, ripped through her body, the bloody sharp tip piercing the top of her head. She slumped, completely skewered, blood pooling under her robes and spreading liquid petals around her still erect body.

"Get the point, Bella?" Hermione chuckled as the dogs ran over to the witch and started tearing chunks out of her as if she were shish kabob. Cracks appeared in the flooring, lava pouring through before the pit collapsed entirely, the howling dogs and bodies of the murderers swallowed by the churning magma.

Suddenly, the throne room returned to normal, and Hermione returned to her throne. The Death Eaters were silent as the grave as they looked upon their Dark Lady.

"My friends have been avenged," Hermione said softly. "It was a short show, but entertaining. It even had a bit of audience participation. You may all depart, with the exception of Severus Snape—"

Draco made ready to get the hell out of there.

"—and Draco Malfoy."

Oh, gods damn it.

One by one the Death Eaters left the throne room, no doubt with a healthier respect for the viciousness of the Dark Lady. She was one sick whatever-she-was.

Snape approached her throne and bowed as Draco skulked against a far wall, fear in his eyes. What kind of mood was Hermione in after exacting her revenge? Hopefully, a good one, or as good as it could be for someone so bloody evil.

"Well, Severus, what did you think of the show?" Hermione asked her envoy.

"It was one of the most brutal displays I have ever witnessed performed on others," he replied honestly.

"I did a good job, then," Hermione said with a smile. Then she sobered. "I suppose now you are going to show Dumbledore how Harry and Ron's killers met their demise."

Snape nodded.

"Yes, my Lady."

"Very well. Don't leave anything out," she said, the evil smile returning.

* * *

Albus' expression was totally bloodless as he exited the Pensieve Snape had given him of the deaths of Macnair, Dolohov, Alecto, Amycus and finally Bellatrix.

"She is truly soulless, Severus," the wizard said heavily, unable to believe the horror he'd witnessed.

"She is cruel, Headmaster, but perhaps their deaths will have brought her some kind of closure, some type of peace. Her hatred may ease, now," Snape said softly.

"Perhaps. But it is more important than ever that you begin to work on her, Severus. Do you have a plan of action?"

"No. No, I don't."

"You don't have much time before she turns her attentions to something else. We have no idea what she will do next," Albus pressed. "She needs to be distracted."

"I'm working on it, Albus."

"You're going to have to work faster."

Snape scowled slightly. Albus made this seems as if it were going to be easy. It could easily be him on a pike next. Gods, what he didn't do for the old wizard. But he vowed he'd do anything to serve the Greater Good. So he was stuck for it.

"I'll do my best, Albus," Snape replied tightly, having no idea how to approach the situation.

But a possible solution would soon present itself.

* * *

"Arrrrgh!" Draco cried through gritted teeth as he rested naked on his hands and knees on the floor of the throne room. Hermione was walloping his tight arse with a big leather paddle. His buttocks were a nice, bright pink.

"I love it when you blush, Draco," Hermione breathed, whacking him again and watching his balls swing as he jerked in reaction. He was so much fun to abuse.

Again, it was good to be the Queen.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. ***


	12. Weakness

**Chapter 12 ~ Weakness**

A week later, Hermione turned up at St. Mungo's accompanied by Snape, who had once again been pulled out of class by the witch. Hermione was to be questioned by healers to determine her state of mind.

Unfortunately, her appointment had been leaked to the press, which had been sniffing around for more information about Hermione ever since it was published that she had been cleared in the attack on a St. Mungo's mediwitch nearly six years ago. So, when they arrived, they were met by popping flashbulbs and reporters shouting questions.

"Miss Granger, where have you been all these years?"

"Word has it you are now in control of the Death Eaters! Is this true? How did you accomplish this?"

"What do you plan to do now that you are back among wizarding society?"

Hermione stoically walked through the crowd of reporters and refrained from killing any of them, although more than one camera and one quill heated up in a couple of hands, forcing the holder to drop them. Hospital security kept them out of the hospital itself, and Snape waited while Hermione was escorted into a room and tested for sanity.

Two hours later, she emerged with a smile.

"I'm officially 'sane,'" she informed Snape, who arched an eyebrow at her.

"You don't look completely convinced," she said, frowning at him slightly.

"I am not a healer," Snape replied ambivalently as they walked toward the doors of the hospital. Outside, the reporters waited, determined to get answers. Hermione caught Snape's arm.

"I'd rather avoid this," she hissed, then they disappeared in a burst of flames and sulfur, startling those around them. The couple reappeared in the throne room, Snape coughing and waving away the black smoke furling around them.

"I'm relatively sure that you are powerful enough to come and go without all the extras," Snape said as he pulled out his wand and tried to Scourgify away the scent of brimstone from his robes.

"What's the fun in that?" Hermione replied with a wicked grin as she sat down on her throne and looked at him. "I brought you here, Severus, because now that I have the basics out of the way, I need to ask you something. Your honesty is very important."

"Yes, my Lady. I will be as honest as possible."

"I hope so," Hermione responded, a bit of threat in her voice.

She continued to look at Snape wordlessly for a moment or two, then asked him, "What orders did Albus Dumbledore give you concerning me? I know he has told you to do something. What?"

Snape's black eyes met her still brown ones.

"My orders are to help you regenerate your soul," he said softly. "Although for the life of me I don't see how I would be able to do that."

Surprisingly, Hermione didn't get angry.

"I figured it would be something along those lines. He wants me to lose my powers," Hermione said, her brows furrowing.

"I think he just wants you restored to the witch he remembers, and loves," Snape said softly. "I think many people would want that."

"Loves? Pah! No one loves me, Severus, any more than they love you," Hermione spat. "When I was locked up in the psychiatric ward, no one came to see me, no one tried to help me!"

"No one could bear to see you in that state, my Lady—"

"Call me Hermione!" Hermione hissed at him.

"No one could bear to see you in that state, Hermione. It was too painful—and it seemed you were beyond help."

"How much more painful was it for me?" she snapped back at him, her eyes reddening. "Tied down like an animal!"

"You were mad."

"I was distraught."

"No, you were mad—completely insane. Vicious, even murderous," Snape said honestly.

Hermione's eyes turned red.

"They killed Harry and Ron. I wanted revenge," she hissed at the wizard.

"Revenge is one thing. You had no regard for anyone any longer. You nearly killed two Aurors when they brought you in and injured three more. You were a danger to society at large."

"How DARE you!" Hermione snarled at him, ready to punish him.

"You asked for honesty," Snape replied quietly. "Will you punish me for giving you what you asked for?"

Hermione quaked on the throne, the urge to make Snape suffer trying to take her over, but conflicting with the part of her that still felt a sense of fair play. Suddenly she shot a huge fireball out of her palm that skimmed him and crashed into the far wall, exploding like a bomb.

"Depart! NOW!" she screamed at him.

Snape wasted no time disappearing.

Hermione sat on the throne, cursing as tears fell from her eyes. She hadn't cried in nearly six years.

"Damn it," she breathed, wiping at them with her hands.

Draco had the misfortune to enter the throne room and looked at Hermione, stunned. He approached the throne as Hermione tried to hide her tears.

"My Lady, are you—are you crying?" he asked her, amazed.

Hermione looked at him, then sent him flying into the stone wall so forcefully, he was knocked out.

"Mind your own blasted business, Draco," she sniffed, returning to trying to stop her tears. She looked over at his unconscious body, then flicked her hand at him, sending him to Malfoy Manor.

She needed to be alone. She summoned a wall of cold hellfire and used it to replay the deaths of Harry and Ron's murderers over and over until her tears passed and her heart was once again filled with vengeance.

But the damage had been done. Her soul had regenerated more in those few moments than it had in months. She had come among the Death Eaters with only half her soul, now she had nearly three quarters of it intact.

Being wicked would be just that much harder now.

* * *

Minister Titwilder fragrantly studied the several Death Eaters sitting in his ministry office. They had come to turn themselves in, wishing to be sent to Azkaban for their own protection. Several Auror stood behind the six men and women, their wands at their sides.

"She's a mad woman, worse than Voldemort could ever be," one wizard said with a shudder.

"Yes, none of us are safe. She'd kill us as soon as look at us. I'm willing to confess to atrocities, whether I did them or not!" a witch exclaimed, her eyes pleading. "Just get us away from her."

Odius sighed inwardly. Normally, this would be quite the coup, Death Eaters turning themselves in for punishment. But, he had told the Dark Lady they were under her jurisdiction. To send them to Azkaban would just piss her off. And Odius did NOT want to piss Hermione Granger off.

The Death Eaters had shared the gory details of the death of Alecto, Amycus, Dolohov, Macnair and Bellatrix, and the minister had gone ashen at Hermione's viciousness. But he had basically given her the go ahead, so there was nothing he could do about it. In the wizarding world, avenging others was par for the course.

"I'm sorry, but you are under the rule of the Dark Lady," the minister said coldly. "You chose to join the Dark Lord, and this is your reward."

"But, that was Voldemort. We didn't have a choice with Hermione Granger!" they argued.

"You chose your path. The fact that Voldemort was overthrown has no bearing on this. You didn't serve the Light, and the Light can't help you now. Now, leave my office before I make this attempt to escape her thumb known to your Lady!"

The Death Eaters looked at him with horror on their faces.

"Where is justice?" one witch asked him as they rose in unison.

Thinking of all the innocent lives lost to Voldemort over the years, including people he knew, Odius frowned at the witch.

"If there were true justice, all of you would have been in that pit," he hissed. "Now, leave!"

The Aurors parted as the Death Eaters filed out, then followed them to make sure they left the building.

* * *

Neither Snape, Draco nor the Death Eaters in general heard from the Dark Lady for more than two weeks. Albus was all over Snape about going to see the witch, but Snape refused, saying they parted under less than stellar circumstances and the only way he was going to return to her was if he was specifically summoned.

This situation was much different than when he spied on Voldemort and both he and Albus knew it. Hermione wasn't attacking anyone, or threatening wizarding society at large. There wasn't the sense of urgency on Snape's part as there had been when the Dark Lord was in power. People were being targeted. That wasn't the case here. Snape saw no reason to risk his life this time around, and told Albus so.

The headmaster was less than pleased about this, he was so used to Snape following his orders. But, with Voldemort's death, Albus was no longer the general. For the most part, the wizarding world as at peace. And for the first time in many years, Snape had some choice in what he would and would not do in Albus' service.

Finally, he was summoned to the throne room. Surprisingly, it was on a weekend when he didn't have class. He appeared and turned to the throne. Hermione wasn't in it. Instead, she was seated behind a desk stacked with parchments, magazines and pamphlets. She looked up.

"Hello, Severus," she said with a rather pleasant smile.

Snape was inwardly relieved. He thought she still might be angry with him.

"Come join me. I need your assistance," she said, pointing to a chair that materialized beside her. Snape billowed over and sat down, looking over the papers curiously. Hermione had a stack of folders in front of her, each with the name of a Death Eater on it.

"I've been researching my followers in order to better decide what reparations each of them will make to the wizarding world. I've sorted them out according to lifestyle, wealth, time, abilities and so forth, and I have a general idea as to whom will fit where."

Snape nodded. Hermione always did her homework.

Hermione pointed to a stack of parchments.

"Those are listings of charitable organizations, orphanages, hospitals and so forth," she told the Potions master. "It's my plan to have each person make a life-long commitment to providing what is needed to a specific task. Their options will be either taking an Unbreakable Vow to do so, or a very nasty, painful death. They can take their pick."

Hermione's eyes glowed for a moment, then turned brown again.

"There is volunteerism at St. Mungo's, sitting with victims too damaged to ever leave the hospital. There are orphans that need homes. There are children that need male or female influences because they've lost a mother or father. There are organizations that need donations, homes that need rebuilding and other situations that they can be useful in. But, because of the—ah—human factor in these situations, I need to assign these tasks to them without getting myself emotionally involved. I've listed several possibilities as to what each Death Eater can do in his or her folder, keeping in mind how much they'd hate it, but doing the actual assignments would have a negative effect on my powers, because essentially, they would be acts of charity and kindness. So, I need you to do the assigning for me, Severus."

Snape pulled a folder over and looked at the notes Hermione had written on it, then he looked at her.

"No matter how much you try and separate yourself from this, Hermione, it is definitely a powerful display of goodness," he said softly.

"Don't remind me," Hermione hissed, scowling. "But they have to make reparations. I don't know any other way to do this."

"Ah, self-sacrifice," Snape said. "You haven't lost that trait. Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor."

"Be quiet before I make your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth," Hermione snapped at him bad-naturedly.

Then she rose and stalked over to her throne, sitting down in it as if putting distance between herself and Snape would lessen the impact of what he'd said about her. Yes, she was risking her powers, but having avenged Harry and Ron she just didn't have the hate in her heart she once did. She had closure now. Without that hate to fuel her, she wasn't as wicked as she needed to be. She had spent the last two weeks contemplating this and had come to the conclusion her days of power were numbered. She looked over at Snape as he leafed through the folders.

"Severus, you will also be required to take an Unbreakable Vow," she said to him. He looked at her, startled.

"What kind of vow?" he asked, thinking she was reneging on her promise of preferential treatment.

"To protect me with your life," Hermione said softly.

"And if I refuse?"

Hermione's face contorted.

"Then you have the same alternative as any other Death Eater," she said coldly.

There was no need to say what that meant as her eyes reddened.

"Then, of course, I agree."

* * *

A/N: Whoa. That's quite the vow. Thanks for reading.


	13. Overstepping Boundaries

**Chapter 13 ~ Overstepping Boundaries**

A startled Draco suddenly found himself in the throne room. He was dressed only in his boxers and had his wand in hand, but still wore Hermione's collar around his neck. He blinked at Hermione, who was seated on her throne then bowed.

"My—my Lady?" he said as a question.

"If this was to be a conjugal visit, Draco, you'd be more than ready," Hermione said, flicking a finger at him and covering him in black robes and boots. "You do have your wand with you, at least. We're in need of you."

We?

Draco looked around to see Snape seated at a desk stacked with parchments and books. The dark wizard rose and walked toward him as Hermione dismounted her throne and also approached Draco.

"I assume you know how to perform the part of the Bonder for an Unbreakable Vow, Draco?"

Draco looked from Hermione to Snape, then said, "I've never done it, but I know the procedure."

"Good. You will stand in for us," Hermione said as she and Snape faced each other and clasped hands. Draco soberly placed the tip of his wand against their joined hands.

"Will you, Severus Snape, protect me, Hermione Granger from all harm, magical and non-magical?" Hermione asked Snape.

"I will," Snape replied.

A single strand of liquid fire poured from the tip of Draco's wand and winded around their hands. It didn't burn, however.

"Will you willingly place yourself in harm's way to protect me, Hermione Granger, even under the threat of your own death?" Hermione continued.

"I will," Snape responded as a second strand of fire entwined around their clasped hands.

"Will you keep this Unbreakable Vow to me, Hermione Granger, until the end of your days?"

Snape's dark eyes met Hermione's soberly as his hand twitched slightly within her grasp.

"I will," he breathed.

A third strand wrapped about their digits then all three erupted into a fiery glow, which then sunk into their flesh. The spell was complete. Draco slowly drew his wand away, his eyes resting on Hermione.

"I would protect you too," he said to the witch softly. "I'm willing to take the vow for you, my Lady. Let me."

Hermione released Snape's hand and looked at Draco, surprised.

"Why, Draco. Don't tell me you've developed a taste for me!" she exclaimed as Snape looked on, interested.

Draco reddened in front of the wizard. He didn't know if Snape had any idea of the twisted acts Hermione performed on him and made him perform on her.

"Well, I am the closest to you," he said sullenly. "We are on intimate terms."

Hermione laughed and Draco visibly wilted at the scorn in her laughter.

"Draco, you are not my boyfriend, you're my plaything. There's a big difference."

Draco looked so miserable, Hermione averted her eyes so she wouldn't feel sorry for him. She just couldn't bring herself to blast him for evoking emotions in her. Instead she said, "Draco, only one person can make an Unbreakable Vow to another, because if two people take the same vow and only one person fulfills it, the other will die instantly because he did not."

"Still, it should have been me. Snape's nothing to you," he said, pouting.

Hermione growled in exasperation.

"Go back to the Manor!" she hissed, flicking a finger at him before he could protest.

Snape looked at Hermione, his lip quirking.

"It seems Draco is quite smitten with you," he observed.

"I have no idea why. I treat him like dirt," Hermione hissed.

"That could be precisely why. He's used to being treated like gold," the Potions master said.

"He's just entertainment. I'm tiring of him anyway," Hermione said as she walked back to her throne and sat down. She looked at Snape consideringly.

"As a matter of fact, I've been considering broadening my sexual horizons," the witch purred, eyeing Snape in an unmistakable manner. He blinked back at her. Suddenly, he felt a slight weight on his throat. He pulled his robes away from his neck and felt the collar that had appeared there. He looked up at Hermione.

"It's scarlet and gold, in case you're wondering," she said with a crooked smile. "Welcome to my stable."

* * *

One would think that a monk in a cowl walking with a staff would be quite noticeable in Muggle London, but Optun Mooreshead didn't attract nearly as much attention as he should have as he walked the avenues. That's because you could expect to see practically anything in London if you looked long enough. Actually, Optun wasn't as interesting as a lot of people. Londoners were an eclectic mix, after all.

Optun was at a bit of a disadvantage. He couldn't identify witches and wizards based on the odd way they dressed, because almost everyone seemed to dress oddly as far as he was concerned. He was convinced this was a mostly evil place, especially when he saw so many Goths and people with piercings, body art and blackened mouths.

He had become so attuned to the staff that he no longer had to uncover it for it to direct him. He would just stretch it out before him and it would tug him in the proper direction. Sometimes it even swerved without him addressing it. Now it was leading him down a street called Charing Cross Road. The staff swerved strongly toward a little pub.

Optun read the sign.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

Frowning he walked inside. It was a tiny, grubby little inn, but crowded. The monk stared at the group of individuals gathered about drinking, chatting and playing cards. Drinks flew through the air to land on tables, wands lit pipes. Robes and pointed hats abounded and one or two people carried brooms.

"A wicked place," Optun hissed.

"Oi. I haven't seen a wizard with a staff in ages," an elderly wizard said to Optun. The monk whirled on him.

"Wizard?"

"Well, what else am I to call you?" the old man said with a toothless smile.

Optun whipped out his large brass crucifix, holding it toward the wizard, who blinked at it.

"Nice piece," the wizard said. "Very ornate. Are you selling that?"

Optun blinked, unable to believe that it had no effect on the minion of evil. No one else seemed disturbed by it either. Frowning, he put it away.

"I'm looking for a witch named Hermione Granger," Optun said tightly.

The old man cackled.

"You and everyone else. The Daily Prophet is offering a hefty amount of money to anyone who can give them an accurate story about her. There are rumors of course—"

"What kind of rumors?" Optun hissed at him.

"Well, come join me at a table and I'll tell you," the old wizard said, walking towards the back of the pub. Optun frowned around him, then stiffly followed.

Because of Hermione's signature on his staff, no one recognized him as a Muggle. He sat down, his face twisted in distaste at being among so many damned souls.

The old wizard ordered two Firewhiskys, and they floated to the table magically. Optun stared at the glass in front of him as if it were filled with poison.

"Drink up," the wizard said, tossing his back.

"I don't drink. Tell me about Hermione Granger," Optun hissed. He thought about his blessed blade but there were far too many people here for him to kill single-handedly. Besides, he already had a target for his thirsty short sword.

He just had to find her.

* * *

"So, I get no say in the matter?" Snape asked Hermione silkily. Ooh, she loved the sound of his voice. It seemed he'd purposely made it sound even sexier when he addressed her.

"Actually, no, you don't," Hermione replied. "You are my servant and I've had my eye on you since day one. But, you had work to do—so I bided my time. Besides, don't you feel you deserve more than a mere 'thank you,' for taking an Unbreakable Vow for me?"

"If I had a choice in the matter, yes. But I didn't. It was either the vow or death. I prefer to keep breathing," Snape replied. "If you would really like to thank me, Hermione, you could allow me the dignity of at least wearing my own house colors around my neck. I find Gryffindor colors, distasteful."

Hermione considered this. Snape was in a different league than Draco. She liked owning the pureblood and wearing her house colors was meant to add insult to injury. But she had no desire to bring Snape down any notches. His dignity was part of what made him so appealing. She wanted him—willing.

"Very well," she said, changing the collar to green and silver. "It's done."

"Thank you," the Potions master said, then he walked back over to the desk and sat down, Hermione frowning at him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him.

Snape looked at her calmly.

"You stated you brought me here to assign these duties to the Death Eaters. I presume you'd like me to get right to work on this," he said to her.

Hermione snorted.

"Business before pleasure?" she asked him, her eyes glowing slightly.

"Always," Snape replied. "Then one can go at their pleasure with a clear conscience."

"I have no conscience," Hermione hissed.

"Well, I do. And this is quite important."

Snape knew he was pressing his luck speaking to Hermione in such a manner. She was the one in charge, and might show him that in a very physical manner.

But she didn't.

"Very well. Do the assignments, but don't take all day," she snapped at him.

It was a small victory for the wizard. Maybe he'd be able to manipulate her emotions after all. It was clear she was worried about her powers. She wouldn't have asked him to protect her if she was at full throttle. Her soul had to be growing.

Snape began leafing through the folders again, putting himself to the task.

* * *

Four hours later, Snape closed the last folder and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had successfully assigned each Death Eater a proper life-long reparation. He looked at Hermione.

"Would you like to go over these?" he asked her.

"No, I wouldn't," she said softly. "Approach my throne, Severus Snape."

Snape rose and approached Hermione's throne, stopping a few feet away. Hermione rose and walked up to him.

"Lean down," she said.

Snape obliged her. Once again she ran her hand over his large, hooked nose.

"Does your nose live up to the rest of you," she asked him as he straightened.

"I think you could see for yourself, if you were so inclined," Snape responded.

"I could, but, I'm hoping to be pleasantly surprised, although size is no guarantee of—skill," the witch said, smoothing her hand over Snape's jaw line, which tightened reflexively.

"I've never had any complaints when I've indulged," he responded softly.

"So tell me, does this service rankle you, Severus? Do you feel any resentment at my wishing to use you in such a manner?"

"I am in your service," Snape purred back at her. "I've been given worse assignments under both Albus and Voldemort."

Hermione laughed, then said, "It doesn't have to be terrible, you know. I can appear as anything or anyone—"

Hermione looked into Snape's mind and latched on to an image. Suddenly she changed, and Snape's eyes widened, then he stumbled back from her, his eyes full of pain.

"NO!" he rasped. "No! Not her! Stop it!"

Hermione stared at him with her green eyes, shocked at his reaction.

"It's someone from your past, someone you cared for but never had—I was only trying to show you—"

"NO! For gods' sake, stop it! I—I can't bear it. Take it away!"

Snape covered his eyes with his hand, trembling in reaction to the image of Lily Evans-Potter that stood before him. Hermione changed back.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said softly.

Snape looked at her, his eyes hard.

"You had no right to do that! No right to pull up her memory!"

Hermione had no idea of Snape's unrequited love for Lily Potter, Harry's mother. He'd gotten over it but seeing her in the flesh brought up old feelings, feelings he no longer wanted to experience.

"It was meant to be a fantasy—"

"No, a nightmare! I can't do this now, Hermione. Let me go."

Hermione stared at him, torn. It was what she wanted that mattered, not what he wanted.

"I could compel you," she hissed.

"You'd have to, and you'd continue to have to do it every time you engaged me if you force me now," he hissed back at her. "I need to recover from this, Hermione. Let me go back to Hogwarts."

Hermione scowled at him.

"GO THEN!" she snarled, Snape disappearing in a burst of flame and brimstone.

Then Hermione set about blasting her throne room to rubble in frustration.

Who was that woman? And why had he reacted to her the way he did?

* * *

Snape found himself in his quarters, surrounded by black smoke. He wasted no time making himself a large Firewhisky and plopping down in front of the fireplace. He quickly drank it down, rasping as the burn coursed down his throat and stared into the flames.

Seeing Lily had brought back memories, memories of not only how she had abandoned him, but how he had failed her when her son Harry had been killed. Once again, guilt rose in his heart.

He stared into the flames, his black eyes glistening with remorse.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading.


	14. Snape's Success

**Chapter 14 ~ Snape's Success**

Hermione stalked toward a kneeling, naked Draco with a length of thick, soft rope in her hands. She'd decided to work off her frustration with the pureblood rather than continue to gouge stone out of the walls. Rubble lay around the perimeter of the throne room.

The wizard's gray eyes lit up as Hermione draped the rope around his neck and slowly began to tighten it. Draco began to gasp as his air supply was slowly cut off, his eyes watering as his erection sprung to life—

Suddenly, the rope loosened as Hermione looked puzzled.

"What?" Draco asked, disappointed he hadn't been brought to the brink of passing out.

"Severus. He's asking to join me."

"Tell him no."

Hermione stared down at Draco, then slapped him hard.

"You presume to tell me what to do, Draco?"

"I'm sorry, my Lady," Draco simpered, his cheek holding Hermione's handprint.

"Go home," she hissed, flicking a finger at him.

"But—"

Draco was gone. Hermione didn't care where he appeared at the Manor. Wherever he did, he'd be buck naked with a rope around his neck.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her robes pocket, pulled back her left sleeve and touched the tip of it to her Dark Mark.

Snape appeared before her, his face slightly contorted.

"Your servant is here, ready and willing," he said, his voice thick.

Hermione could smell the Firewhisky on him.

"You're drunk," she observed, her eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I am. But not too drunk to exercise some demons," he replied. "You're half demon, I have demons—"

Snape caught her roughly by the shoulders, shaking her.

"All powerful—the Dark Lord's killer—Avenger of Harry Potter—you give pain, but can you take it away? Can you, Hermione Granger?"

Snape kissed her roughly, the taste of Firewhisky on his tongue as he scoured her mouth. He pulled away from her lips, snarling down at her.

"Aren't you going to destroy me?" he hissed at her. "Aren't you going to rain down your wrath upon me like you've done to others? Aren't you?"

His eyes were full of pain, and Hermione stared up at him.

"Who was she?" Hermione asked him softly, her lips slightly swollen. No, she wasn't going to destroy him. His lack of fear was a turn on as was his anger.

"Take the pain away," he said through gritted teeth, not addressing her question as he began unbuttoning his robes with one hand as he clasped the witch by the throat with his other hand and backed her toward the desk.

Hermione had never been treated like this, and a part of her responded to Snape's rough treatment. It wasn't violence, but raw, animal and honest need. Gods, he made her feel as if she wanted to burst into flame that had nothing to do with hell-fire.

His grip was tight, but he couldn't hurt her. Not really. Hermione stopped against the edge of her desk and Snape roughly lifted her, sitting her on it and pushing up her robes. She was naked beneath them. He tore away the rest of his buttons impatiently as he ripped open his robes, revealing a slender, scarred, pale body and very tented briefs, which he yanked down.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised for an instant, before he unceremoniously impaled her on his thick cock without as much as a "May I, Dark Lady?"

Hermione let out a hiss and jerked as Snape drove hard against her cervix, looking down at where he penetrated her, then his eyes snapped to her face. The pain within those dark orbs washed over her and suddenly, she was drawn into his mind, into his memories as he pushed her down to her back and began to stroke her madly. Every time he hit bottom there was a bright flash of an image.

His being beaten by his father, sitting with a red-headed girl, being tripped by a messy haired boy wearing glasses, dueling several wizards at once, again the red-haired girl.

Lily Potter. It was Harry's mother. Snape had loved her.

Hermione gasped as Snape pounded her brutally, driving his pain into her psyche as Hermione witnessed his love and his loss and his subsequent oath and suffering for the sake of the woman he once loved. Flashes and images overwhelmed Hermione's mind as Snape overwhelmed her body, scattering the folders as he climbed on the desk, following her sliding body and not letting up as he grasped her wrists to hold her in place.

Hermione's eyes welled up as she took in his pain, empathy and sorrow filling her as his emotions became her own. She drew the pain away from him, compelled to try and give him peace, something Snape hadn't experienced for a long, long time, if ever in his life.

The sound of slapping bodies was all that could be heard as Snape took every inch of Hermione Granger, hunching into her, his head becoming light, his muscles beginning to protest, his robes clinging to his back with perspiration. Still he rode her body as if possessed, letting out all of the pent-up rage and pain inside him.

Hermione was in perfect bliss, Snape's ache deep inside her, powerful, animal. It was—freeing not to be the dominant one. She orgasmed, her release washing over Snape's plunging cock, the wizard hissing and falling to her mouth, once again raping it hungrily as he approached his own climax. The memories, they were dulled, his head empty, the ache inside him gone now. He broke the kiss and looked down at Hermione, then came with hoarse cry, stiffening as he pulsed inside her heat.

It hadn't been a long engagement, or the one that Hermione had originally envisioned. There had been no foreplay, but she found she was very satisfied because Snape's passion more than made up for the lack of caresses and kisses.

Spent, Snape fell on top of her again, both of them panting, hearts thudding in their chests as they recovered. After a minute or two, Hermione was the first to speak.

"Severus, I'm going to have to assign those reparations immediately and release the Death Eaters from my rule by tomorrow at the latest," she said softly.

Snape looked down at her, sober now from all his exertion.

"Release them?" he asked her. "I had no idea you intended to do that so soon."

"I have to, Severus. I no longer have the power to hold them, thanks to you," she replied, her voice quavering slightly. Snape gently withdrew from her body, his organ limp and wet with their mingled juices. He stood up, looking down at her with a perplexed expression.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Tell Albus you were successful," Hermione told him, sitting up on her elbows. "Tell him—my soul is restored. When I took away your pain, I drew everything you felt inside of me. I had to—you've suffered so much—too much."

Snape stared down at her, slowly comprehending just what Hermione had done.

"You sacrificed your powers—for me."

Hermione nodded.

"I'm completely human now," she said softly

Snape stared at her.

"If I had known—" he began.

"You were supposed to make me lose my powers, and you did it. Albus knew what he was doing when he assigned you the task. He knew out of everyone, it was you I empathized with the most, even when my soul was halved."

Snape pulled out his wand and Scourgified Hermione, then himself and helped her off the desk. They fixed their clothing, then stood facing each other. The feelings of anguish the Potions master had felt, was gone, as was his guilt concerning Harry Potter. He had done all he could to protect him and had done so successfully for many years. He was an adult when he was killed. Snape helped him to get that far. It was enough.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said softly.

"It couldn't be helped, Severus," she replied with a sigh. "Now, we'd better sort out all of these scattered papers. I'm going to start summoning them first thing in the morning. You will serve as my Bonder—"

Hermione realized she no longer had the power to compel Snape to just arbitrarily meet her demands.

"If you will—"

Snape quirked his lip at her.

"I am still in your service, my Lady," he replied.

Hermione gave him a soft, relieved smile.

"Thank you. I'm going to need you to pull this off. We have a few preparations to make. Are you good at illusions?"

Snape nodded.

"Good. Now, let's put our heads together."

Snape and Hermione spent the next three hours planning the reparations and release of the Death Eaters back into society. Snape hoped Hermione was a good actress. If she wasn't, it could very well mean her life—and his.

* * *

The next morning, Lucius Malfoy was summoned to the throne room. He noted with a bit of surprise that the summons wasn't painful. He appeared before Hermione's throne and bowed deeply to the narrow-eyed witch.

"Lucius," she said tightly.

"My Lady," the wizard replied a bit nervously. Snape was standing beside the throne, looking very sober.

Lucius heard a snarl and turned to see a replica of the pit that had held Hermione's last victims. Inside it, three hellhounds sat on their haunches, slavering up at him, their eyes glowing. He swallowed and looked back at Hermione nervously.

"You've been summoned here to be given a choice. Take an Unbreakable Vow or die very painfully," Hermione hissed at him.

Lucius knew better than to ask what the vow would be. That would sound like he was considering death, and he wasn't.

"I will take the vow," the wizard said quickly.

"A very wise decision," Hermione said, standing up and approaching him along with Snape.

Lucius took the vow, agreeing to the terms three times. He was to give a very generous donation twice a year to the Foundation for the Fatherless, an organization that cared for orphaned children, particularly those whose parents had fallen to Voldemort.

After the vow was completed, Hermione pulled up her left robes sleeve.

"Display your mark, Lucius," she ordered the blond wizard. He did so.

Hermione touched the tip of her wand to her mark and said a long invocation. The tip of her wand turned a nearly blinding white. She touched it to Lucius' mark and the wizard gave a cry as it glowed white hot, then disappeared.

"You are hereby released from my service, Lucius Malfoy. Try not to be an arse for the remainder of your life," Hermione said to him.

Lucius couldn't believe it. He was free from service? No longer a Death Eater?

This was too fantastic for words.

"Thank you, my Lady," he said with a bow.

"Miss Granger will do from here on out," Hermione replied as Snape looked on.

"Miss Granger," Lucius purred with a smile.

Then, he Apparated.

"That went rather well," Snape observed.

"Yes it did. Now, we just have to get through all the others," Hermione said, strengthening the pit illusion a bit. The hellhounds were starting to get a little unfocused.

* * *

A/N: I don't believe this is going to be a very long story. It could have been, but I think I'm a little burnt out on long stories right now, especially after Looping. But it will be a complete one. Thanks for reading. ***

A/A/N: I would like to remind readers who donate to access extra content on the Burning Pen, to please include an updated email address when you use Paypal. If you don't then I can't send you the links and passwords, and I don't want you to think I'm stiffing you. So please, make sure you have a working email address where I can send your receipt and your info. Thanks.


	15. Hermione Returns

**Chapter 15 ~ Hermione Returns**

Draco Malfoy was the last Death Eater to take the Unbreakable Vow. He would be visiting with young wizards in need of positive male influences, sort of like a Big Brother. Hermione stressed the positive aspect.

Draco balked however when it was time to release him from service. He held his Dark Mark away from her as Hermione scowled at him.

"But I want to stay in your service," Draco told her.

"I'm no longer going to be the Dark Lady, Draco. I have my own life to live. I don't want to spend it babysitting a bunch of grown wizards. Now, hold out your arm!"

"But, what about us?"

"Draco, there is no 'us.' There never was any 'us.' Now, stop being a petulant prat and let me remove your Mark," Hermione told him firmly. "Honestly, how did you get so—so whipped?"

Snape thought Hermione only had herself to blame for Draco's infatuation. If her intention had been to break Draco down to his lowest point, she'd succeeded fabulously.

Draco was so stubborn that Hermione finally hit him with a Petrificus Totalus spell which stiffened him in place, and removed the Mark that way. When she released him, she began to push him toward the illusory pit, the hellhounds jumping up at the sides as they got closer. Draco finally Disapparated.

"Whew!" Hermione said, plopping down in her throne, exhausted. "I didn't realize getting rid of Draco would be such a chore."

Snape wore an expression of amusement on his face as he said, "Don't be so sure you're rid of him. Malfoys can be notoriously determined when they want something badly enough."

"Don't say that. All I need is Draco sniffing around me for the rest of my days," Hermione hissed.

"Did you think you could do all you did and have absolutely no repercussions?" Snape asked her, approaching the throne and looking down at her.

"Morally, yes. With a partial soul, sin couldn't stick with me, provided one believes in sin," she replied softly.

"And you don't?" Snape asked her, cocking his head.

"I'm not sure, but better safe than sorry," she muttered. "Now, I have to give the elves clothing."

Hermione summoned the House Elves, who cringed in front of her. She tossed them all little shirts.

"Now, get out of here!" she snarled at them, and they all gladly winked away. They remembered how she had murdered one of them. She looked pained after they left.

"They're scared to death of me," she said quietly.

"Yes. I doubt any House Elf will remember your fight for their rights, now," Snape responded. "And what about the treasure trove? You don't intend to abandon that?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No. It's all been transferred to Gringotts and put in trust to be used in a benevolent manner. Currently, I've assigned Albus Dumbledore to make the decisions. I kept ten percent for myself, however. The spoils of Victory. It's quite a bit of money, but a witch has to live."

A younger, less jaded Hermione would have turned all the money over to charity. But that witch no longer existed.

Snape looked at her.

"So, what are your plans now?" he asked her.

Hermione looked at him soberly.

"I have one more Death Eater to release," she said softly, rising from her throne and approaching Snape. She drew her wand.

"Display your Mark, Severus Snape," she commanded him.

Snape slowly drew back his left sleeve and displayed the hated Mark to Hermione, his eyes glittering. He watched as she murmured the incantation, then touched the white glowing tip to the skull and serpent embedded in his forearm. The Marks on both of them flared up, both gritting their teeth against the pain as the cursed images disappeared forever.

Panting slightly, Hermione looked up at Snape.

"It's over," she said softly.

A rumble sounded and Snape looked around.

"Not quite," he said, grasping Hermione's arm and Disapparating with her as the mountain under which Voldemort's lair was hidden came crashing down. The Mark still had Voldemort's magic attached to it, the magic he'd used to carve out and support his dwelling. When the Mark was destroyed, so was that magic.

No trace of the throne room remained. The mountain had shifted and filled in that cavernous area completely. It was now buried under tons of stone. The reign of the Dark Lord and Lady was truly over.

* * *

A knock sounded on Albus Dumbledore's office door. The wizard, who had been working on the budget, looked up over his glasses. He was glad for a break. Attendance had been down for the past five years at Hogwarts, and there had been quite a few cuts in the curriculum, pay increases and boarding arrangements.

"Come in," Albus said.

The door opened and in walked Snape.

"Ah, Severus. How goes it with Hermione?" Albus asked him.

"Why don't you ask her yourself, Headmaster?" Snape replied, stepping aside. Hermione stood in the doorway, her hands twisting nervously as she looked upon her former Headmaster.

Albus stared at her.

"Hermione?" he said in a choked voice.

"Yes, Headmaster. It's me," she replied in a small voice, not moving.

The old wizard slowly rose, his eyes filling.

"Is it you? Is it—is it completely you?" he asked her, his voice still rather hoarse.

"Yes, sir. Severus completed the task you gave him. I've—I've regained my soul," she said softly.

Albus smiled broadly and quickly walked around his desk to the doorway and embraced the witch tightly. Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck and she began to sob against his shoulder. Tears ran down Albus' cheeks to be lost in his beard.

Snape sat down with an exaggerated eye roll and waited for the blubberfest to end.

* * *

Albus was gobsmacked to find out that Voldemort's treasury was now under his control to use in whatever manner he saw fit to improve the lives of the citizens of wizarding society.

"I considered turning it over to the Ministry, but I was sure a lot of it would be redirected away to line the pockets of politicians and their supporters," Hermione said. "I'm sure you'll distribute it fairly."

"I will. A number of foundations will be created, and I will be able to bring Hogwarts back up to snuff," Albus replied.

"A raise would be nice," Snape interjected.

Albus smiled at him.

"It's in the works, Severus," he assured him. "Now, how did you manage to regenerate Hermione's soul so quickly?"

Hermione turned bright red as Snape looked at Albus rather blankly.

"I think it best not to divulge my—secret of success, Albus. I may have to patent it one day," the Potions master said, cutting his eyes at Hermione for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting.

He should have been glad Hermione lost her powers. The look she gave him would have definitely killed.

"Very well, but I knew you could do it, Severus."

"One part application, ninety-nine parts perspiration," the wizard added, Hermione turning an even deeper crimson.

"The Minister needs to be informed that the Death Eaters have been disbanded and I am no longer the Dark Lady," Hermione said quickly, anxious to change the subject. Now, that she had her soul restored, she also had a sense of propriety again.

Snape thought of something.

"Ah, Hermione, what about—you know—"

He waved his fingers under his large nose as if waving away an unpleasant smell.

"Oh my goodness! I forgot about the Minister," Hermione gasped. "He still stinks."

Albus blinked.

"I admit Minister Titwilder has some tendencies that aren't appreciated, but—stinks?" he said to Hermione.

"No, he literally stinks. I put a curse on him when he was—er—less than cooperative," she informed Albus, who chuckled.

"More than likely it dissipated when your powers did. Don't worry."

"I hope so. The last thing I want is him angry at me and I'm a normal witch again."

"No one has to know that," Snape said softly. "Those in the know will simply believe you are restraining yourself. I think it best if you continue the deception."

"I agree, Hermione. And I think it best that you don't reveal the origins of your power. Witches and wizards might not be particularly religious, but they are wary of those who strike up bargains with demons. Since only I and Severus know about Liath Greyman, I believe it's best that little detail is left out of your story. We will have to concoct another. You could have spent your last five years in intense study, honing your power and skill and then returned to face Voldemort, besting him. That's all anyone needs to know."

"But the Death Eaters. There may be a public outcry that they weren't brought to justice," Hermione stated tremulously.

"I'm sure careful wording will take care of that. There are no more Death Eaters after all. None retain the Mark. Technically, the Death Eaters no longer exist. The public can interpret that any way they wish," Albus assured her. "I highly doubt any will step forward to reveal themselves out of fear of repercussions from the masses. I will take care of getting your story out myself, Hermione," Albus said reassuringly

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said, then yawned. She felt exhausted.

Albus then began talking with Snape, and their voices became fainter and fainter as Hermione fell asleep in the armchair, curling up like a child. She let out a little snore and Snape and Albus looked at her in surprise.

"Take her into my guestroom, Severus," Albus said softly. "She's exhausted."

"Yes, Albus," Snape replied, rising and walking over to Hermione. He carefully lifted her out of the chair and she wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling her cheek into his thin shoulder and not waking as he carried her down the hall and into a spare bedroom. He gently put her into the bed and looked down at her.

"Rest, my Lady," he said softly, then exited, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Optun Mooreshead sat on the edge of a small bed, sharpening and blessing his short sword. The old wizard, whose name was Darwin Pickens, had proven to be quite a kind fellow, inviting the monk to stay with him in his small home on the outskirts of Hogsmeade while he visited the wizarding world. Optun told him he had a message to deliver to Hermione from someone very close to her.

Despite Darwin's kindness, Optun could only see evil in the old man. He was only being helpful because he thought the monk was an abomination like he was. He would simply bide his time here, then, when he left, he'd leave the world with two less Hellspawn in it.

So, the demoness was rumored to have overthrown another wizard and was considered a hero if the story were true. Optun thought it was just one evil replacing another. Cursed beings could do no good. If there were any divine justice, this entire society would be wiped out in a manner similar to Sodom and Gomorrah. But, these were different times. Holy men had to fight the evil of this world. Optun was counting on a shot at sainthood if he managed to pull this off. St. Optun.

He liked the sound of that.

* * *

Brother Liath had his shoulder to the cheese press when he suddenly couldn't feel Hermione any longer. He stopped the pressure, the whey dripping into the trough as he straightened. Usually it took ten monks to press the salted curd, but Liath had superhuman strength that came in quite handy.

His soul's growth had been expedited because of the kind treatment of the monks as well as the torture he underwent. By not destroying Optun, he had gained mercy, patience and long-suffering. His own soul was nearly complete. Cryptus excused him from the prayers and oblations required of the other monks, but assigned him duties of service within and without the monastery. He distributed cheese to the orphans, looked in on the sick and infirm and helped fatherless families with their chores and farming. He was a favorite among the townspeople, and although he was a monk, he turned the eye of many a pretty young thing. He had to remember he was in a holy order. Demons were very big on lust. It was one of the last things to go. Despite the occasional bout of carnality, his progress was excellent. He had also developed a conscience.

That was why he had stopped the press. Hermione was completely human now, and Optun was searching for her. The staff would find her even faster now.

Hermione was an innocent again, but more than likely, Optun wouldn't care. She was tainted, unholy and had to die. The sword Optun carried was centuries old. It had been fired and forged with the help of holy water, then blessed. It had already tasted the blood of demons and had a thirsty blade. And that staff that held Hermione's signature and soul fragment could possibly protect the monk from her magic. She'd be defenseless against him.

Liath sighed as he left the cheese room

Damn this thing called conscience.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. ***


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